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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24089266">Boomerang</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldWaters/pseuds/EmeraldWaters'>EmeraldWaters</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>EXO (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Not K-Pop Idols, Awkwardness, Do Kyungsoo | D.O-centric, It isn't really explained, It's just a thing that happens, Light Angst, M/M, Magic, Soul Bond, Summer Solstice, kind of</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 22:21:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>38,055</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24089266</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldWaters/pseuds/EmeraldWaters</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>There is nothing but air in front of him. Nothing to explain why, all of a sudden, he is pulled to a jerking stop. With a quiet exclamation and a throbbing spine, Kyungsoo tries to step forward, only to be yanked back a step. He pushes his glasses back up his nose and takes a few shaking breaths. Slowly, trying to fight the rising panic.</p><p>Then comes a loud, “oh, what the fuck."</p><p>~</p><p>“So, we’re stuck. Together. That’s what you’re saying."</p><p>The brief euphoria in figuring out what was going on is quickly swallowed by a white-hot bolt of dread. Stuck. With this stranger. For who knows how long. “Y-yes. That’s what I’m saying.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Byun Baekhyun/Do Kyungsoo | D.O, Do Kyungsoo | D.O &amp; Kim Jongdae | Chen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>111</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>all i'm gonna say is that this was meant to be posted after the release of power of music...</p><p>in 2017.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The air tonight is warm.</p><p>Fireflies hum around the strings of fairy lights, contrasting with the orange, purple and yellow of the darkening sky. It is as if the world has been switched to high definition, the trees appear brighter and the veins of their leaves sharper. Even the air smells sweet: of wildflowers and pine, syrup and wood-smoke. As it always does, the summer solstice brings people out late. Many stroll the paths, chatting and buzzing like the night around them.</p><p>Despite the headiness of the air that wraps around his skin and stands his hairs on end, whispering, pleading <em> stay, </em>Kyungsoo keeps his head down. Walks briskly with his cheek puffed out and arms weighed down with the weight of his shopping bags.</p><p>Force of habit, he brings his watch up to eye level as he walks, and panic turns his blood to liquid ice.</p><p>It’s <em> seven-fifty. </em> Already.</p><p>Bursting into a jog-walk, Kyungsoo dodges around the slow-walkers on the footpath, bags banging painfully against his side.  He can’t believe he let it get so late. Because everyone knows that the summer solstice doesn’t just feel magical, it is. Everyone knows that from anywhere between eight in the evening and midnight, outside, where the moon can touch,<em> things </em> can happen.</p><p>Extraordinary things.</p><p>Last year, Jongdae had grown honest-to-god cat ears out of the top of his head. The year before that, after an ill-timed jog, he had spent a week surrounded by an uncomfortable fish odour. (Both instances he'd probably enjoyed a bit too much considering).</p><p>Dread drops low in Kyungsoo’s stomach when he’s stopped short in front of a chain-link fence and yellow tape. Construction work that is blocking his usual route, a route that pushes on ten minutes as is. It’s going to take even longer to get home now. <em> Shit. </em></p><p>Without taking time to pause in disbelief or to gather his thoughts, Kyungsoo turns on his heel. Starts squeezing through the people milling around with his lip caught painfully between his teeth, as they remain unmoving, all wanting a taste of magic. Waiting for an encounter with the supernatural that only arrives once a year for so little time. </p><p>In his haste <em> (and lack of air because they are all packed so tightly he can’t breathe) </em> Kyungsoo runs into someone. Careening slightly from the unintentional shoulder-barge, Kyungsoo tightens his hold on his bags. Any other time he would stop and apologize but as it is, with terror and <em> no time to spare, </em>he only half-turns his head to mutter a hasty apology.</p><p>Then he hits a wall.</p><p>No, not quite, because there is nothing but air in front of him. Nothing to explain why, all of a sudden, he is pulled to a jerking stop. With a quiet exclamation and a throbbing spine, Kyungsoo tries to step forward, only to be yanked back a step. Movements slowly building up to frantic, he keeps struggling to push forward until he is quite literally forced to stop because the base of his spine feels as if it is going to be wrenched from his skin.</p><p>He pushes his glasses back up his nose and takes a few shaking breaths Slowly, trying to fight the rising panic.</p><p>Then comes a loud, “oh, what the <em> fuck.” </em></p><p>Kyungsoo freezes. Turns, unmindful of his spilled groceries.</p><p>Even disgruntled and sprawled across the ground, the man before him is beautiful<em> . </em> Hair, messed from the fall, is an inky black, falling largely over one side of his face to frame rounded but thin cheeks. His eyes although squinted from frustration are bright. Everything about him is delicate, except maybe his shoulders. And the scowl he directs at Kyungsoo when he looks up.</p><p><em> “What?” </em>The man spits.</p><p>With wide eyes, Kyungsoo steps forward to offer him a hand. It’s only polite. He did knock the man down after all.</p><p>The man stares him out, blowing hair out of his eyes, and then hits the offered hand away.</p><p>Kyungsoo retracts his hand and eyes as the stranger stands up, turning away to pick up his groceries. He crouches, stretching for an apple that rolled out of the bag, and flinches as a curse cuts through the air in unison with a sharp twinge in his shoulder.</p><p>He rubs at the spot, looking back to see the man stagger towards him as if he’d been pushed.</p><p>When the stranger goes to walk backwards, his spine arches strangely, suspended, and Kyungsoo feels the pull in his stomach this time.</p><p>“What?” The man mutters to himself, eyebrows drawn, looking at his navel. He smooths a hand down his oversized hoodie, looking puzzled.</p><p>Kyungsoo starts to retrieve his fallen groceries again, watching the stranger from his peripheral. There’s a sick feeling in his stomach.</p><p>When a muted trill breaks the sudden quiet, a sharp <em> “fuck” </em>escapes the stranger’s mouth, incongruously harsh from the delicate pout of his lips. Despite the curse and the seeming reluctance to answer it, the man pulls his phone from his back pocket and makes his way over to the nearest park bench. Flips his hood over his head, obscuring his face.</p><p>Kyungsoo follows him silently (because when the man moves there’s a pull at his ankle), clutching his paper bag of groceries to his chest when he takes a seat at the opposite end. Not someone who is inherently curious or nosy, he finds it easy to ignore the half of the conversation he can hear beside him.</p><p>It’s why he startles when “are you <em> following </em>me?” is directed at him accusingly.</p><p>Whatever Kyungsoo’s answer was going to be, it dies in his throat stopped short by the hostile eyes underneath the black hood. He struggles enough with words when interacting with people his own age - finding the laconic and polite behaviour expected of him around elders to be much easier – without the aggression of the guy beside him.</p><p>Kyungsoo blinks rapidly behind his glasses. “Don’t you feel it?”</p><p>The man looks at him in disbelief, not even trying to conceal the disdain in the curl of his upper lip. “What the flying<em> fuck </em> are you talking about?”</p><p>Any aspect of Kyungsoo that was relieved when his voice didn’t crack, is curling up in shame. <em> Idiot. </em> How weird, how creepy would that sound to an absolute stranger? He grips his groceries tightly, not able to meet the stranger’s eyes anymore. Each new sentence he thinks to say is cut-off by another, the thoughts not able to handle the pressure of his rising anxiety.</p><p>He’s interrupted by a sharp spike of pain.</p><p>Clutching his arm as it throbs, Kyungsoo looks up just in time to see the stranger tumble back onto the seat ungracefully. A stream of curses filter into the air this time, the other man rubbing at his left leg.</p><p><em> Almost like some sort of rubber band… </em>Kyungsoo thinks, mind instantly off his faux paus and ignoring the spectacle beside him. It would make sense. And so, in a way that would make Jongdae proud, tests his hypothesis by throwing his right arm out as far as it can go. With a violent pull, the recoil drags his hand, and the stranger, back towards the middle of the seat.</p><p>
  <em> Hmm. </em>
</p><p>Tests it again, subtly this time, by shuffling his right foot out in increments. Heel toe, heel toe, until it feels he can’t move it any further. Then he jerks it out sharply.</p><p>It almost bounces back into place.</p><p>Watching the other man jiggle his left leg in the direction of him, Kyungsoo clears his throat. “I think the solstice magic is affecting us.”</p><p>When the stranger’s eyes flick to him, Kyungsoo refuses to be intimidated this time. “If I do this,” he leans out of his seat, “and move away far enough, you should feel a pull in your left side and I can’t move any further or you get pulled towards me,” Kyungsoo explains, brows furrowed in concentration.</p><p>The other man is silent for a long time. “So, we’re stuck together. That’s what you’re saying.”</p><p>The brief euphoria in figuring out what was going on is quickly swallowed by a white-hot bolt of dread. <em> Stuck. </em> To this stranger. For who knows how long. “Y-yes. That’s what I’m saying.”</p><p>Don’t panic. <em> Don’t </em> panic.</p><p>The man snorts. It’s not a comedic sound but bitter. “Great. Just great.” A pause. A sculpted eyebrow rises. “You’re <em> sure? </em>”</p><p><em> Well that’s exactly what I just said wasn’t it? </em>Impatience tinges his next words in response to the scepticism but only a person who knows him well would even detect it. “Test it. I’m not lying.”</p><p>The stranger proves Kyungsoo’s impression of impulsiveness by shooting to his feet. Takes three big steps before being yanked backwards. He stumbles, hoodie crumpling in the middle of his back around nothing.</p><p>Kyungsoo presses tentative fingers to a spot in the middle of his chest.</p><p><em> “Fuck,” </em> The man shouts, hitting a hand against the glazed wood of the bench. Sharply, he turns on Kyungsoo and someone who is that beautiful, that fine-boned, should not be as intimidating as he is. “Did you plan this?” he spits. “Did you not stop to <em> think </em> how your actions affect others? How that being attached to you has not only the potential to ruin my week, but my whole <em> career?” </em></p><p>Kyungsoo, with his bags cradled in his arms, colours under the assault. There’s an awful squirming in his stomach. He may not understand what the man is talking about, but the hostility in his voice stabs right under his skin like hundreds of pinpricks. The fairy lights that were so beautiful are mocking now, rows upon rows of blinking, staring spectators.</p><p>“-Or <em> maybe </em> you wanted to ruin me! Well? Fucking say something or are you simple?!”</p><p>Kyungsoo’s hands curl into the sleeves of his sweater. <em> Breathe. </em>Confusion and embarrassment drop his voice even lower. “I apologize for running into you, but it was an accident. I had just as little idea about what would happen as you did.”</p><p>The man doesn’t apologize. If anything, his chin rises higher as his eyes flick, scanning Kyungsoo up and down. The assessment finishes at the top of Kyungsoo’s head. The man’s lip curls. A derisive huff escapes his mouth, “Well, we’re<em> definitely </em> not staying at mine.”</p><p>The shaking hand hidden in the sleeve of Kyungsoo’s sweater unfurls in surprise. “Pardon?”</p><p>“Oh, were you planning to sleep on this bench tonight?”</p><p>“No-” <em> But. </em>“But I don’t know you.”</p><p>“Byun Baekhyun, a <em> pleasure, </em>” The man drawls.</p><p>Unpleasant warmth wraps around Kyungsoo’s neck. “Do Kyungsoo.”</p><p>Baekhyun claps his hands together, eyebrows gracing near his hairline. “Goody. Now hurry up.”</p><p>Kyungsoo doesn’t move, despite having wanted nothing less than to have been home half an hour ago. There’s a damp spot from under his hands that will be the vegetables thawing and the butter is probably soft. But his legs are frozen against the cooling bench. Something like sweat beads uncomfortably in the small of his back and along his upper lip.</p><p>Baekhyun’s arm rests upon his hip. A bark of laughter cuts through Kyungsoo’s skin in one sharp sound. “Don’t tell me you’re scared that I’ll murder you or something.”</p><p>Kyungsoo’s fingers tighten around his left arm. It’s an acceptable fear. He rarely invites friends over to his house, let alone strangers. A hostile stranger at that.</p><p><em> “Look,” </em> Baekhyun says, and it almost would be cooperative, if not for the rolling eyes and tap of his foot. “I want to fucking get out of this park, so take a photo of me or some shit and send it to a friend.”</p><p>Fears not fully abated but eased, Kyungsoo takes out his phone. Hands that can’t stop shaking take a photo that’s a little blurred but he doesn’t have it in him to try another. Kyungsoo doesn’t think his psyche could take another nudge, let alone a beating.</p><p>Jongdae messages back before he can follow up.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Jongdae | 08:36 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> oooh who’s this??? </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Jongdae is only ever either ridiculously punctual or radio silent. All or nothing. Figures he’d choose today to not wait for an explanation.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Kyungsoo | 08:37 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hyung it’s not like that! I just need you to know that this is Byun Baekhyun and he has to come home with me tonight. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Because Jongdae is both merciful <em> and </em> impish – he knows text language drives Kyungsoo crazy – he drops the conversation by simply replying:</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Jongdae | 08:39 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> oak </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Kyungsoo isn’t deluded. Jongdae may have dropped it for now, but Kyungsoo doesn’t doubt for a second that he won’t get interrogated later.</p><p> </p><p>“We done yet?” comes barely a second after Kyungsoo’s phone lowers, acerbic and impatient.</p><p>Kyungsoo inclines his head. It takes him a few minutes to organise the bag in his arms so the groceries don’t spill. It goes unsaid that Baekhyun wouldn’t help if they did.</p><p>The only thing that seems to fall in Kyungsoo’s favour since he left the grocery store is that when they start walking he is slightly ahead. He doesn’t want Baekhyun to see the splotchy-red colour his face has gone in the now frosty night. His stomach is in knots.</p><p>With Kyungsoo’s throat buzzing uncomfortably around his ears the minutes stretch in the silence. Peppered with intermittent sighs, each is a bullet into Kyungsoo’s weakening defences. It makes little sense that a strangers’ actions would render Kyungsoo with such thin skin: if it was a friend behaving this way Kyungsoo wouldn’t tolerate a second of it.</p><p>But by now, Kyungsoo wants nothing more than to disappear. If there were any other option, surely it would’ve come to him by now. He wouldn’t have even ruled out spending the night outside if it hadn’t been common knowledge that the closer it gets to midnight, the more sinister the magic gets.</p><p>Mercifully, the magic that is messing with them decides to make the walk home short.</p><p>His house is the first of four built down an open driveway. All four are identical with a garden out back that Kyungsoo enjoys tending to, and neighbours – two elderly woman and a young couple with a child – that he doesn’t mind speaking to and who leave him mainly to his own devices.</p><p>Kyungsoo, with eyes burning into his back, fumbles the key into the lock. Holds the door open and makes his way quietly into the house, taking a deep breath.</p><p>“My home,” He says, voice steady, but his words wobble and fall to the ground.</p><p>Baekhyun doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even give a hint that he’s heard Kyungsoo, eyes scanning the room. Eventually all he does say is, “it’s small.”</p><p>It <em> is </em> small. But Kyungsoo is proud of the flat he bought with eight years’ worth of wages, warm as it is and kept immaculate, filled with books and movies alike. He won’t let Baekhyun make him feel bad. Not over this.</p><p>Without a word, Kyungsoo starts towards the kitchen, followed by a pull at his lower back and a rather indignant squawk.</p><p>His lips twitch.</p><p>Bending so he can set his armful on the bench, Kyungsoo glances at Baekhyun from under his fringe, watching him take a seat, gingerly, right on the edge, like he’s afraid he’ll catch something. Jaw clenching, Kyungsoo turns his focus to the groceries – the butter is only a little melted thank god - so he doesn’t tell Baekhyun just exactly what he thinks. He’s actually somewhat appalled at the other man’s behaviour. Who acts like this when invited into someone’s home?</p><p>Once the groceries are lining the counter-top, Kyungsoo folds the bag and puts it in recycling, turning to gauge the distance between all the amenities. Neither the island or the space between is very wide at all. Kyungsoo walks slowly to the fridge with vegetables in both hands. When he finds no resistance, he starts putting the rest of the groceries away<em> . Not only must Baekhyun and him be allowed to be further apart than at least a metre and a half, but objects must not affect the connection, </em> Kyungsoo notes, humming deep in his throat as he moves behind the pantry door – and then the fridge – to test his theory.</p><p>Only when the groceries are all away does Kyungsoo face Baekhyun again. His calm detachment falters slightly when he sees Baekhyun’s eyes flick calculating, almost knowingly, to the couch. It’s leather, cracked and small but warm and comfortable and Kyungsoo just <em> knows </em>that Baekhyun sees the blanket thrown over the back.</p><p>Kyungsoo hunches his shoulders defensively as he pulls out pots and pans, ready for the mocking remark, but Baekhyun doesn’t comment. Has grown bored if the big sigh and the movement of pulling his phone out of his pocket have anything to do with it.</p><p>“Any food that you don’t eat?” Kyungsoo asks, voice more tentative than he wished it to be, stilling where he’d began to retrieve his recipe book.</p><p>Baekhyun looks up from his phone just long enough to say, “cucumber.”</p><p>“Pasta okay?”</p><p>Baekhyun just shrugs - if the half-hearted lift of his right shoulder would even deign to be called a shrug. He doesn’t even look up.</p><p>Kyungsoo wished he hadn’t asked. Entertains the slightly bitter side of himself and – stemming from Jongdae’s influence no doubt – pictures himself staring deadpan at Baekhyun as he slides over a cucumber salad.</p><p>Not wanting to dwell on these thoughts any longer – or get his sleeves dirty - he pulls his sweater over his head, forgetting about his glasses and catching himself in a tangle. When he emerges, red-faced and sweating, Kyungsoo wants to disappear. To run away and <em> hide </em> from Baekhyun’s sneer.</p><p>Of course, that’s not an option.</p><p>With a frown deep enough to draw lines into his skin, Kyungsoo spins around. Aware of the eyes burning into his back; of a stranger, he can’t speak to and can’t get away from, Kyungsoo keeps his eyes down as he wipes his hands on his apron. Tries to keep them from shaking – unsuccessfully judging by the ratting of the frying pan.</p><p>To block out the harsh silence that buzzes thick into his ears and sits his skin on edge, Kyungsoo plugs his phone into the small dock that has its home next to the fridge. The soft melody fills the air and sets Kyungsoo more at ease.</p><p>Still, he is relieved when he dishes the plates up ten minutes later.</p><p>“Thank you,” Baekhyun says genuinely but blandly, his lips not even <em> twitching </em>.</p><p>Unsurprisingly, dinner is a sombre affair. Quiet, aside from the clink of chopsticks against ceramic and the tap of Baekhyun’s phone. Unable to enjoy the meal like he usually does Kyungsoo is glad when he stands to clean his bowl. He does the dishes alone; washing, drying and putting them away before Baekhyun speaks again.</p><p>“I need a shower.”</p><p>Sickly-sweet coats the back of Kyungsoo’s mouth as wipes the surfaces down too vigorously to be clinical, splattering some of the mess further out which only serves to make him more frustrated. Frustrated and tired and just so <em> over </em> this situation. <em> Where are Baekhyun’s manners? </em>“Okay,” is all he says however, in a measured tone.</p><p>Very aware of the presence behind him, Kyungsoo detours to his bedroom – not very far considering the size of his apartment – and pulls out the first pair of sleep shorts and shirt he finds. They should fit, Baekhyun is a thinner than him but of similar height. He tries not to think about how, despite the sourness and rudeness he has shown, how beautiful Baekhyun is already in baggy sweats and a massive threadbare sweatshirt. How more beautiful he’d be in Kyungsoo’s borrowed clothes.</p><p>Baekhyun eyes the offered clothes with barely-concealed disdain. He takes the shirt gingerly but roughly enough that the shorts drop to the floor. “This will do. I have a bag with me.”</p><p>As Kyungsoo is pulled stumbling from the room behind Baekhyun, barely able to grab the book on his bedside drawer, he wishes he could say what he’s really thinking. Wishes he could tear into Baekhyun the way he knew Jongdae would.</p><p>It is already claustrophobic being attached to another person, Kyungsoo thinks in utter mortification as Baekhyun relieves himself. (Kyungsoo will be forever grateful for his ability to remain completely neutral on the outside, especially when Baekhyun brushes past him and turns to look with an arched eyebrow). Lowering himself onto the cool tiles of the bathroom, Kyungsoo crosses his legs underneath him and desperately tries not to hear Baekhyun’s clothes hitting the floor. Despite being as gay as they come, there is nothing remotely exciting about this situation. It’s uncomfortable and grating and miserable.</p><p>Pulling his phone from his pocket, Kyungsoo sees a message from Jongdae that he hadn’t heard arrive.</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em> Jongdae | 09:27 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Is the guy hot at least?? </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. <em> Priorities Jongdae, priorities. </em></p><p>But he won’t lie.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Kyungsoo | 09:48 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> yes </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The sudden gush of running water makes Kyungsoo close his eyes. It’s better than the silence before at least, which was painful and made their breathing and every drop of clothing to the ground twice as loud.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Jongdae | 09:50 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> but?? </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Kyungsoo doesn’t know whether to scowl or smile. Jongdae is too perceptive for his own good.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Kyungsoo | 09:52 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He’s not the most pleasant person. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em> Jongdae | 09:55 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Must be a total asshat. You want me to talk to Junmyeon for you?? </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em> Kyungsoo | 09:57 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I should still be at work tomorrow. But thank you hyung. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Kyungsoo doesn’t think that being at work with Baekhyun would be any worse than spending a whole day <em> alone </em>with him.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Jongdae | 10:01 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> All good!! See you then :3 </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Kyungsoo smiles. Slightly bigger, despite himself, when he can hear Baekhyun humming. Still, that doesn’t make thirty minutes pass all that much faster.</p><p>Absorbed in cataloguing the peculiar patterns the wallpaper is made up of, Kyungsoo doesn’t realise at first that the shower has turned off. The screech of the shower curtain gives it away, as does the pad of feet onto tile, and Kyungsoo freezes.</p><p>The next few minutes of rustling and soft cursing and the odd droplet of water hitting Kyungsoo’s skin are tense. Set in otherwise silence, every sound is amplified. Even his own breathing is loud in his ears.</p><p>“I’m done.”</p><p>Thank god. Kyungsoo abandons his book, whose dog-eared pages he’d been absent-mindedly thumbing through, and stands, unfolding limbs that ache from being pressed to the linoleum. He is lucky it’s summer or he would be cold too.</p><p>With a glance, Kyungsoo surmises the bathroom is, astoundingly, clean. No water puddles, no sopping towel on the floor. With a nod and a puzzled look because Baekhyun had just exceeded his expectations, Kyungsoo turns to head towards the lounge, figuring he’ll be followed. He doesn’t try to make conversation.</p><p>Halfway to the couch, Kyungsoo is stopped. The pull-back is so gentle he almost didn’t feel it; a mere tug between his shoulder blades. He turns to see Baekhyun haloed in the doorway, head downturned to his phone with hair like volcanic rock falling in damp feathers over his eyes.</p><p>Kyungsoo takes a deep breath. “Can we go to the couch?”</p><p>Baekhyun makes an affirmative noise, smiling down at his phone, an action that makes him infinitely lovelier as his scowl gives way to a surprisingly boxy grin, the apples of his cheeks rising softly with the thin gold-rimmed glasses he must’ve pulled from his bag.</p><p>Kyungsoo waits.                                                                                      </p><p>“Oh sorry!” Baekhyun says a beat too late looking up as if he’d forgotten where he was and who he was with. It’s unexpectedly vulnerable; the hair flopping into his eyes and the soft fall of his mouth that accompanies the sheepishness of being caught off-guard. Realisation quickly takes over and brings the scowl back, somewhat half-heartedly before Baekhyun’s face smooths into neutrality. “Whatever.”</p><p>Baekhyun takes a seat as far from Kyungsoo as the magic allows and turns back to his phone. Instead of slouching like Kyungsoo expected him to he sits as straight as a board and honestly, it’s even uncomfortable to look at.</p><p>Kyungsoo himself can’t quite relax as much as he usually would but pulls his legs up to sit cross-legged and gives into the urge to curl his toes into his socks. (They’re done in bold blue and bronze stripes, not that it matters, but they were a gift from Jongdae that he absolutely <em> adores). </em>It's astonishing that a meagre two hours is enough to convince Kyungsoo that Baekhyun isn’t a threat.</p><p>Still, a reason for the hostility would be nice. Kyungsoo himself doesn’t warm to people easily, but he at least is polite.</p><p>The book in Kyungsoo’s hands drops slightly as his eyes flick to Baekhyun from behind the pages.</p><p>Light glints off his glasses, hiding his eyes from view as he taps away on his phone. Kyungsoo’s oversized shirt sags around his neck. For someone with such clear skin the circles under his eyes are unexpectedly dark. His forehead creases at something on his screen and his lower lip juts out in something akin to a pout.</p><p>Ears burning, Kyungsoo looks away sharply.</p><p>A sliver of space between the curtains shows the darkness outside black spilling in and curling around the fabric. It must be late for it to be so dark. So caught in his thoughts, Kyungsoo almost flinches when there’s a loud <em> thump </em> against the couch.</p><p>Baekhyun, having just thrown his phone down, turns towards Kyungsoo and stares<em> . </em></p><p>Kyungsoo tries not to squirm under the scrutiny, uncomfortable under the directness of Baekhyun’s gaze. Uneasy, he pushes his glasses up by the outer edge of the frame. “Look, sometimes the magic comes with terms and conditions. Maybe we have to do something specifically to cancel it out?” He suggests quietly.</p><p>“Like <em> what? </em> ” Baekhyun says, voice spiking sharply, cruelly, at the end, “True Love’s <em> Kiss?” </em></p><p>Kyungsoo curls his fingers within his sleeves, fingers pushing into his palms. He stares down at the words on the page hard enough until they blur. <em> It was only a suggestion. </em></p><p>Baekhyun sighs, one filled with impatience but maybe also a tinge of guilt. “Apologies, that was a little out of line.”</p><p>Kyungsoo looks up then, simply settling for inclining his head at the apology. It doesn’t take back how the level of scathing stung like a burn.</p><p>Baekhyun swipes a finger under his eye. “How are old are you even anyway?”</p><p>“Twenty-five,” Kyungsoo replies, already on the defensive. Ready for the response he knows Baekhyun will give.</p><p>“Really?” Baekhyun sounds doubtful. “You don’t look that old.”</p><p>Kyungsoo shrugs, trying to not let the sleeves of his sweater fall over his hands again. He knows he looks young, he always has. It’s his eyes he thinks.</p><p>“I’m older,” Baekhyun says, but waves his hand as if it didn’t matter. He then clears his throat, phone in hand again. “It’s eleven o’clock. I’m ready for bed.”</p><p>Fuck<em> . </em> Until then Kyungsoo hadn’t even thought about sleeping arrangements. Dread seals his throat tight and drops a weight into his stomach. <em> Fuck. </em></p><p>“Come on, up,” Baekhyun says, playing with the bracelet around his wrist. He looks one second away from pulling Kyungsoo off the couch.</p><p>Kyungsoo lets himself be dragged to his own bedroom where they stop in the doorway staring at the now lit room. And more importantly perhaps, the double bed.</p><p>Baekhyun picks at his nail. He looks unbothered. “Well I’m not sleeping on the floor.”</p><p>Underneath the oppressive anxiousness, Kyungsoo feels a spike of annoyance. Annoyance that gives way to full-blown irritation when Baekhyun leans against the doorframe with a sigh so deep it resonates through his whole body.</p><p>Kyungsoo doesn’t even try to inject a semblance of politeness when he pushes forward, relishing in the <em> wrench </em>of his arm, knowing it’s not just him that it hurts.</p><p>“What now!?”</p><p><em> “Just,” </em> Kyungsoo starts, voice coated in frustration, and pauses to calm himself, “just follow me so I can sort my bed out without having to drag you.”</p><p>Baekhyun stands straight with pretty hands pushed white-knuckled onto his thighs and another sigh but no complaint. Mercifully he is quiet while Kyungsoo pulls things down from the top of his wardrobe but again, the eyes lasering into his back doesn’t make it easier.</p><p>Kyungsoo makes his ‘bed’ on the floor, nestling it between the wall and the edge of the bed, a thick quilt twice-folded as the base covered by a mink blanket and a single pillow. It’s spartan, which doesn’t bother him. On the other hand, Baekhyun’s lack of apology in taking claim to his bed does – a smug smile dressing his face as he burrows under the covers, right in the middle.</p><p>Kyungsoo wants to roll his eyes when Baekhyun turns the light off before he can fully get into bed. He settles under the blanket, rolling to face the wall, trying to fall asleep with the sound of a stranger’s breaths in his room.</p><p>Neither of them bother to say goodnight.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>you don't know how much self control it took to not post this straight away...</p><p>hands up if you miss junmeyon already</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Kyungsoo wakes he feels more tired than he has been in months.</p><p>Baekhyun had made weird snuffling sounds for what felt like hours and his body had played tug of war between hot and cold all night. He rubs at his eyes with one hand, his right reaching up to the bedside cabinet to grab his phone and glasses.</p><p>Shoving the frames unceremoniously onto his face and pulling his sleep-shirt up to remove a smudge from the lens, Kyungsoo checks the time.</p><p>6:25 a.m.</p><p>Five minutes before his alarm is due to go off. Sitting up, he stretches his arms over his head, huffing at the pull of the muscle around his ribs. With his legs stretched out in front and back pressed to the drawers of his cabinet, Kyungsoo can just see over the edge of the bed.</p><p>Baekhyun is still asleep, bare back rising and falling evenly, accompanied by little puffs of air. The sheet has fallen halfway down his spine and it doesn’t take long for Kyungsoo to spot the dark patch on the duvet that is Baekhyun’s discarded shirt.</p><p>His alarm goes off.</p><p>Body performing a painful-looking twist Baekhyun shoots bolt-upright, his hair in disarray and eyes only half-open.</p><p>Kyungsoo grins behind his hand. But it doesn’t take long for the other man to fully wake and subsequently for Kyungsoo’s smile to dim. Instantly self-conscious at the eyes on him, Kyungsoo finger-combs his hair into order and straightens his shirt.</p><p>“Why the fuck am I awake so early?” Baekhyun demands, phone in hand but duvet pushed back to his legs as if his body had moved before his brain did. His face is pinched.</p><p>“I have work,” Kyungsoo says, standing up. Waits for Baekhyun to refuse to go. Steels his spine and readies his rebuttal because this is one thing he will not budge on.</p><p>Baekhyun just stares. Scoffs. “Whatever.”</p><p>Thrown by the lack of disagreement and absence of open hostility in Baekhyun’s voice despite the frown, Kyungsoo pauses.</p><p>If sensing Kyungsoo’s hesitation, Baekhyun, without looking, sighs, and somehow makes climbing out of the bed look graceful. For a beat, they’re awkwardly close, Kyungsoo feeling the doughy-warmth from sleep radiating from Baekhyun’s chest, their bare feet inches from one another.</p><p>The other man arches an eyebrow, mockingly waving him forward.</p><p>Kyungsoo swings open the wardrobe door but only when he drapes his dress-shirt over his arm does full reality set in. He has to get changed. In the same room as Baekhyun. Big ugly moths fly up his throat.</p><p>Baekhyun has no such qualms. Not even looking in Kyungsoo’s direction, he crouches in front of his leather duffle and stands back up to hook his fingers under his waistband. Completely blasé.</p><p>With a face that’s surely turning red Kyungsoo ducks around the other side of the open door before he can see more of Baekhyun than his lower back. Haste makes his hand slip off buttons and almost causes him to fall with one leg caught in his dress pants. By the end, the tie knotted against his shirt hides a surely splotchy neck. He feels uncomfortably hot.</p><p>Baekhyun looks him up and down when Kyungsoo pushes the wardrobe door closed. Squints. His words, although scathing, come together slow, a puzzle almost too hard to put together. “Who are you trying to impress?”</p><p>That one doesn’t even sting. Kyungsoo’s voice and stare remain even. “I work in an office.”</p><p>When no reply comes, Kyungsoo heads to the kitchen. Baekhyun follows quietly.</p><p>Kyungsoo prepares two breakfasts with no questions and without hesitation, and when no protest comes he looks up to a visibly-wilting Baekhyun, posture drooping, spine curved in on itself with elbows holding him up on the countertop.</p><p>Baekhyun blinks excessively at the bowl that is slid in front of him and winces at the clatter of the spoon that slides along the marble a second later. Almost as if the burst of energy he’d had upon waking has jumped ship. Soon, Kyungsoo can’t even see his face, hidden by his head dropping low over the bowl. His spoon, held loosely and like a pencil, drags idly through milk, silver pausing for seconds at a time before moving again.</p><p>Kyungsoo finishes his own muesli over the newspaper, cleaning his bowl and setting his briefcase on the counter-top. It takes two trips to gather his pre-prepared food as well as the extra portion for Baekhyun.</p><p>He pulls his sleeve up to check the time. 6:45.</p><p>“Done?” He asks, gently sliding his hand to grasp the lip of Baekhyun’s bowl unsure if the man’s eyes are even open under the shock of hanging hair.</p><p>The man mumbles something unintelligible but lets him take it. Limbs intact and all. Though watching him rub at an eye, cheeks puffed slightly, Baekhyun reminds Kyungsoo less of a rabid animal now and more like a rabbit. <em>Hm. </em></p><p>Baekhyun watches the floor as he shuffles socked feet to follow Kyungsoo into the bathroom.</p><p>Brushing his teeth beside someone feels strangely vulnerable Kyungsoo decides. He can’t explain why, although the feat of trying to not dribble toothpaste and spit down a toothbrush should be something attempted alone or, at least, with a close <em> friend. </em>God knows he’s seen Jongdae fail countless times. Not beside a complete stranger.</p><p>Luckily, Baekhyun’s eyes stay laser-focused on the countertop the whole time, toothbrush moving with precision but half-heartedly like the accuracy is taking the last of his energy. The skin under his eyes is pressed-purple.</p><p>Kyungsoo spits. Watches Baekhyun follow suit before turning the tap, green froth swirling down the drain. He rinses his brush and plinks it back into the holder, Baekhyun’s plopping in a second later. Dark green and yellow. He's lucky Baekhyun had his toiletry bag in his duffle when they'd run into each other. </p><p>Kyungsoo opens the door to a clear blue sky, unbroken by clouds. He steps over the threshold and holds the door open for Baekhyun.</p><p>Baekhyun physically recoils at the brightness, walking past with a hand shielding his eyes.</p><p>The sun, having risen two hours ago, is warm against his face. A heat that is only tempered by the slight breeze that plucks at his shirt. Hefting the strap of his briefcase over his shoulder, Kyungsoo starts down the driveway. He doesn’t get very far before he is pulled to a stop. Annoyed, he spins on his heel to see Baekhyun half-turned, staring at the closed door of his garage.  “We’re going to miss the bus if you don’t hurry.”</p><p>“Don’t you have a car?”</p><p>“Not currently,” Kyungsoo replies dryly, not used or comfortable with the - what feels like – momentary decrease in hostility. “I usually bus to work anyway.”</p><p>Baekhyun sniffs and Kyungsoo would have bristled if he hadn’t turned around.</p><p>Unable to stop the grin from breaking across his face, Kyungsoo turns back down his driveway. In over-sized sunglasses, Baekhyun looks like a massive insect.</p><p>As they walk, the sun beats down on their shoulders. Radiates from the pavement and soaks into the soles of Kyungsoo’s feet through his black dress shoes. Sweat threatens his glasses to slip from his nose. In the short time it takes for them to get to the bus stop he is almost uncomfortably warm and is glad he forwent a suit jacket today.</p><p>Baekhyun is back to frowning, creases marring his forehead, looking almost sulky in his navy hoodie which for some reason he has the hood pulled over his head. With the man’s attention lasered to his phone, Kyungsoo has to pull him along by the bond before their bus drives away without them. (Pays the fare for him too, but Kyungsoo is not surprised).</p><p>Because this route doesn’t pass through any school zones the bus is never ridiculously busy, but Kyungsoo gives his seat to the lady who boards after them and as a result, ends up uncomfortably close to Baekhyun. Especially when the wheel hits a pothole and Baekhyun, still on his phone, grabs the nearest thing to steady himself.</p><p>Which is Kyungsoo’s bicep.</p><p>Baekhyun lets go if burnt, but the warmth of his palm has already branded itself onto Kyungsoo’s skin.</p><p>(Kyungsoo keeps his eyes firmly on the window until they get to their stop).</p><p>Although he could swear there is an elbow digging into his back to hurry him along, Kyungsoo waits until all the people in front have filed into a seat or off the bus before he moves. Hugging his briefcase so it doesn’t hit anyone, Kyungsoo makes his way down the narrow aisle, bowing his head and thanking the bus driver before he steps off. (He almost slips when he hears Baekhyun’s voice echo his).</p><p>From the closest stop, it’s a five-minute walk to the office. Most of the traffic is going the opposite way, which isn’t actually isn’t a problem until Baekhyun and Kyungsoo are forced slightly apart by the crowd. A man in scrubs talking on the phone attempts to squeeze through the gap between them. Emphasis on attempts, because with a movement that would seem acted if Kyungsoo hadn’t been watching so closely, the man staggers back and catches his heel on the uneven cobbling.  </p><p>Once he gets his bearings, anger covers the stranger’s face as he pushes himself up onto his hands, and Kyungsoo can see him looking around for a culprit.</p><p>Kyungsoo grabs the fine bones of Baekhyun’s wrist and despite the hiss, pulls him until their shoulders are brushing. “That doctor just bounced straight off the air between us.” He says lowly, not letting go of Baekhyun until his sharp eyes find the man.</p><p>Baekhyun’s lip stays curled but he relaxes minutely. Lets Kyungsoo drive them forward, staying on his heels as they navigate through the people. Pushes Kyungsoo, hard, in the shoulder to steer them out of the way of a gaggle of children.</p><p>They stumble into a wall. Or Kyungsoo almost does, but his shoulder barely brushes the brick before the string pulls taut and he bounces back the other way. His briefcase smacks him in the hip.</p><p>Surprisingly out of breath, Kyungsoo presses his hand tentatively to the brick and turns to see Baekhyun gripping at his own shoulder, claw-like, standing with his feet apart and half-turned to him. (Later, belatedly, Kyungsoo would realise he’d used the bond to stop him from hitting the wall).</p><p>Baekhyun looks up. There’s a fleeting second, strangely companionable, where Kyungsoo can see through a pink-cheeked Baekhyun’s sunglasses, and he could <em> swear </em>there’s a glimmer, a flicker, of a surprised smile. But the second ticks over and when time moves normally, Baekhyun steps forward and, no longer haloed by the sun but instead shadowed, his eyes disappear back behind the darkened lenses.</p><p>The rest of the walk, Kyungsoo watches Baekhyun out of his peripheral. The other man gives nothing away, face expressionless and remaining so until they arrive at the office and Kyungsoo slows to a stop. Kyungsoo scans his lanyard and holds the heavy glass door open for Baekhyun, letting him through first so he won’t get shut outside. Baekhyun says nothing as they enter or when they bypass the elevator, or even when Kyungsoo swipes to let them into the stairwell, but the mutters cursing the air behind him as they climb speak for themselves.</p><p>It’s only four flights but it may as well be twenty with the pace Baekhyun sets. Kyungsoo almost has a heart attack – and a fall – when the bond coils around his ankle and tugs.</p><p><em> It must be spite, </em> Kyungsoo thinks as he descends six steps to where Baekhyun had stopped to rub at his calves – as despite his best efforts he had seen a glimpse of Baekhyun’s silhouette – because there is no way he’d be struggling to climb stairs.</p><p>When they get onto his floor<em> , eventually, </em> Kyungsoo isn’t surprised to find it empty. He is always first to arrive anyway.</p><p>He flicks the lights on.</p><p>Kyungsoo’s desk is at the back of the room, against a window, one away from being in the corner. His cubicle walls are only partial, and if he leans back enough in his desk chair, he can see out into the bullpen. He’s usually left somewhat alone due to the lack of desks around him, only bordered by the one at his back. Today though, he heads for Luhan’s desk. Luhan just transferred back to China, and his position – therefore desk - hasn’t been filled yet. It’s situated nearly smack-bang in the middle of the maze of desks, sharing his cubicle wall with three others. Yixing, Jongdae and their division’s head, Yifan. Not that Yifan uses his desk much when he has his own office.</p><p>Kyungsoo has barely set his briefcase down when Baekhyun says, “coffee.”</p><p>A decent part of his job training had included how to deal with demands rather than requests, to manage customers who would most likely blame him for things outside his control. Kyungsoo could handle that. Could handle customers whose words bleed poison and sought after him like homing missiles because at the end of the day there was a phone between them. He would never have to see them in person – that wasn’t a requisite of his division. Maybe that’s why this situation is so toxic. Not only is Baekhyun privy to his work life, but his home life as well. Kyungsoo can’t escape.</p><p>With an inaudible sigh, Kyungsoo leads them to the kitchenette which is tucked slightly out of most people’s view. The idea was out-of-sight-out-of-mind but Kyungsoo is unsure how effective it really is. He’s heard too many complaints from the other staff about craving their coffee - or food - to think it fully works.</p><p>Baekhyun starts ruffling through the cupboard. Pulls out coffee, a spoon and milk. </p><p><em> Ah no, please help yourself, </em>Kyungsoo thinks dryly. Meets the expectant gaze thrown back at him with a level stare.</p><p>Baekhyun’s returned eye-roll is so large Kyungsoo wonders if his eyes could get stuck there.</p><p>Kyungsoo leans his hip against the counter. The sharp edge is grating but he doesn’t move until he has to, watching Baekhyun move around the kitchenette easily. Noses around the drawers without a care in the world. Comfortably. Like nothing ever bothered him.</p><p>(Kyungsoo himself gave up a long time ago of ever being that sort of person, things affect him more than he wished they would).</p><p>Once Baekhyun has picked up his cup, contents surprisingly black and fingers curled into the handle, Kyungsoo leads them back through the cubicles. When they reach the desk, Baekhyun monopolises the writing pad and pen nearly before he’s even put his drink down. Takes a seat in Yifan’s chair, which he’d gestured Kyungsoo to pull around for him.</p><p>Kyungsoo takes his own seat and starts up the computer.</p><p>It doesn’t take long to realise that he is hyper-aware of Baekhyun’s movements, eyes catching every stretch, every tap of fingers. From his peripheral, he sees Baekhyun roll out his neck and push back the chair, fine-boned fingers reaching for the book he’d swiped off Jongdae’s desk earlier. Fingers hooked under the cover, Baekhyun pauses to read the post-it note Kyungsoo knows is still taped onto the front. He also knows it reads something like <em> ‘Read Chapter Five!! And </em> <b> <em>please</em> </b> <em> give Yifan a break, he is the head of your division and you shouldn’t be the cause of his grey hairs – Junmyeon.’ </em></p><p>Most of Kyungsoo’s best work happens in the morning however, and soon his eyes are focused back on the screen and his hands finding the familiar paths of the keyboard. Behind tinted windows and not yet under the dry blast of the air conditioning, it’s easy to get lost into his work.</p><p>People start to trickle in around ten to eight, a few calling out greetings as they pass. The majority don’t start until eight-thirty, and right on the dot Kyungsoo feels a mob congregate around his desk. Masking a sigh, Kyungsoo spins around in his desk chair to encounter the oddest face-off he’s ever had.</p><p>Yixing’s under-eyes are puffy and he is using the cubicle wall to hold him up by his cheek and linked hands. Junmyeon’s long fawn coat is brushed back by his satchel and his eyes are bright and inquisitive behind his glasses. Their ringleader stands between them both, slightly ahead, with arms crossed and legs wide. Sleeves rolled crisp to his elbows and tie already hanging loose from a collar with its button undone. Jongdae<em> . </em>Great. An interrogation.</p><p>“Who’s this Kyungsoo?” Junmyeon begins, the polite enquiry painting the words friendly. Not at all like a manager who has just found a random man sitting in his office. But no one ever said Junmyeon’s managing style was orthodox.</p><p>Kyungsoo’s eyes dart to Baekhyun whose face is hidden behind his hood again.</p><p>“Why didn’t you tell us you were dating someone?” Yixing asks without waiting for a reply, beneath tired eyes, dropping his bottom lip low. He looks hurt.</p><p>Bile crawls up Kyungsoo’s throat. Most of the others knew of his preference but what if Baekhyun turned out to be homophobic? He’d never –</p><p>"I'd appreciate it if you all stopped staring at me." Baekhyun snaps, putting down 'A Guide to Working Relationships' as four pairs of eyes stare at him, no sign of having heard Yixing accidentally outing him. A slip of paper marks Baekhyun’s place a few chapters in. </p><p>Kyungsoo’s chest unwinds. He hadn’t heard<em> . </em></p><p>"Where'd you meet this one?" Jongdae finally says, ignoring Baekhyun’s words but staring calculatingly as if he’s already pieced the puzzle together.</p><p>"Solstice." </p><p><em> "Oh,” </em> Junmyeon exclaims. Yixing hums. </p><p>Just as Kyungsoo skin starts to prickle with four sets of eyes still on him, Yifan breaks the moment by walking in. With skin a dark shade of blue.</p><p>Out of all the laughter, Jongdae’s cackle is the loudest. <em> “Yo, </em> Yifan! What happened to you?”</p><p>Yifan’s thick brows scrunch against his forehead and he pinches the bridge of his nose. He sighs with rib-shattering effort, to force out a single word laced in vexation; if he’s already at this stage it’ll be a long day for him. “Solstice.”</p><p>He feels more than hears Baekhyun’s head snap up. On Kyungsoo’s right, Yixing is humming softly under his breath as he plucks at his sweater-vest; when he notices Kyungsoo’s eyes flick to him he smiles softly, dimples and all. On his left, Jongdae is oddly quiet. Not<em> unusual </em>, but generally not a good outlook for Yifan.</p><p>“Ahh Yifan,” Junmyeon chides, perching one half of his body on the edge of a desk, coat falling in a way that is almost too perfect. “Surely you know better than to go outside during the witching hour?”</p><p>Yifan fiddles with the bracelets hidden under the sleeve of his dress shirt. <em> Embarrassment. Will he go purple if he blushes?  </em>“Twins left their tricycles out. Went to get them without looking at the time. Almost had a heart attack when I looked down at my hand.”</p><p>“At least if you finally live out your dream as a Smurf, all you have to do is paint your hair white!” Jongdae yells from somewhere behind his cubicle wall. Kyungsoo hadn’t even seen him move. His eyes go to the upward spike of Yifan’s hair.</p><p>Kyungsoo really doesn’t blame Yifan’s retreat to his office, even if the colour isn’t that bad – a clear azure dappling his hands and neck and face, darkening slightly at his temples and lightening under his eyes – because even being older, and a manager, Yifan is usually the brunt of jokes. Because despite being tall and imposing with a rare-to-show smile, there’s visible awkwardness in the things he does sometimes, and he never quite knows how to handle humility.</p><p>With their source of amusement gone, the workers present disperse, ducking back into their cubicles with impressive speed considering it's a Monday. Kyungsoo sees Jongdae sneak into Yifan’s office with a bag in his hands. Jongdae may be as cutting as a blade, but he never truly aims to hurt. (It doesn’t save him from being slapped upside the head with a clear-file by Junmyeon when he exits the office, however).</p><p>Waiting for Kyungsoo is an email from Bae Joohyun, containing several files he needs to complete, with very concise instructions. At the bottom, conflicting with her impersonal message, is a smiley face next to her name.</p><p>Smiling, Kyungsoo ducks his head, despite not being remotely close to being in her eyeline. Bae Joohyun was the head of the department of four other women. She was wary of men, bordering on distrustful, but ever since Kyungsoo had helped a tipsy Sooyoung at a staff party she had been nothing but kind. This, in turn, endeared the other four women to him. It had been overwhelming at first, having never had women in his life before (other than his mother years ago) but he considers them all good friends.</p><p>He sends her an email back with a penguin emoji and starts working on one of the files. It immediately takes his attention, the flaws in the document, the missing clauses glaring like red lights. It draws him in and when he turns around after hearing something drop loudly onto the floor, it could easily be an hour or two later.</p><p>Lying sideways on the ground is an innocent box of staples. Baekhyun is engrossed in his sketching. Or so it seems.</p><p>However, Kyungsoo hasn’t been friends with Jongdae for almost two decades to not have developed a finely-tuned bullshit detector.</p><p>When Baekhyun doesn’t move for a few minutes Kyungsoo turns back to his screen.</p><p>The stapler falls.</p><p>Then the hole-punch and an eraser and the pencil sharpener.</p><p>At that point, chair surrounded by a fairy ring of miscellaneous desk items, Kyungsoo turns and stares at Baekhyun until he looks up.</p><p>A face that makes a decent play at innocent peeks out from under a softening hood. “What.” </p><p>Kyungsoo gestures to his stationary and turns back around.</p><p>Baekhyun sighs, but it almost sounds amused.</p><p>Ten minutes later Kyungsoo feels a weight over his shoulder and turns to a side view of Baekhyun’s face. He'd noticed the other man stand and start looking through his things, but <em> “really,” </em>he deadpans, minimising the tab to show the default desktop screen.</p><p>“What now?” Baekhyun groans but the curl of his mouth is almost tilted in a way that could be deemed playful.</p><p>Boredom really does change people.</p><p>“This is classified.” Kyungsoo replies a tad exasperated, a fraction unbalanced.</p><p>“Boring,” Baekhyun remarks, a bite with no teeth, plopping down on the edge of Kyungsoo’s desk where there's no paperwork; ignoring the alarmed creak of the wood.</p><p>Immediately prissy, he then demands a walk and they make a lap of the office, Kyungsoo pinching the bridge of his nose the entire way.</p><p>When he crashes into Baekhyun's back, a high-pitched giggle breaks the silence. Out of the three around the water-cooler, Eric, Suzy and the design assistant Soonyoung, Kyungsoo figures the laugh could've been anyone of them. (At Kyungsoo's raised eyebrow they hastily return to their own conversation).</p><hr/><p>Whatever upward spike in mood Baekhyun was experiencing sours around ten-thirty and all but disappears by eleven. It starts with a hushed but furious-sounding cell phone call that results in Baekhyun hanging up by throwing the device down. Hard.</p><p>And when a clear file is playfully chucked over the cubicle wall at eleven-forty by Jongdae, Baekhyun snatches it up and stalks out of the cubicle, pulling Kyungsoo’s chair with him. Kyungsoo stays seated only by the desperate hold of his fingertips on the lip of the desk. Baekhyun isn't far away enough for the bond to hurt but it still pulls at his shoulder.</p><p>Kyungsoo doesn't hear what Jongdae says, words most likely overly cloying, but Baekhyun’s “are you trying to give me a <em> smack talk?” </em> spikes in volume and, laced with incredulity, is loud enough for Kyungsoo to hear. As well as the “I have no attention of going anywhere near him, thank <em> you.” </em></p><p>(Baekhyun’s words don't hurt only because Kyungsoo never had the expectation Baekhyun would find him attractive).</p><p>There's a pause. A quiet exchange.</p><p>And then, dangerously, Kyungsoo can hear Jongdae’s voice.</p><p>In anger Jongdae never raises his voice, preferring cutting remarks to yelling, and the fact his voice has lifted even slightly is very telling. “Okay listen here, you entitled little brat. I don’t give a shit how old you are or how successful you are, you don’t get to come in here and speak about Kyungsoo like that. Who I will say – <em>I am not finished don’t interrupt</em> <em>me</em> - is in the exact same boat as you and who has not done one thing to deserve this. You’ve been nothing but disrespectful to everyone since you walked in that door and I don’t know where you get off treating everybody around you like shit, but could you for a minute remember that we’re people too? Get your head out of your ass.”</p><p>The following silence is uncanny in an office like this.</p><p>When Baekhyun comes storming back in, shoulder hitting the cubicle wall hard enough for it to shudder, there are red spots of anger high on his cheeks.</p><p>From his seat, he can see Seulgi, who is bouncing past in her ballet-flat things. She shoots him a questioning look. He waves her concern off, even as Baekhyun throws himself into his chair.</p><p>Kyungsoo can ignore Baekhyun returning to the search of his desk, even with the cupboards slamming and the audible swearing. But when he sees Baekhyun helping himself to Kyungsoo’s own prepared lunch, he finally snaps.</p><p>As someone practical to the point of neutrality, it takes a lot for Kyungsoo to work up the energy to be genuinely angry, to deal with confrontation, but the sight of those fine-boned fingers picking at his painstakingly prepared steak salad (good steak that he rarely splurges on), just overflows the limit of his tolerance.</p><p>Grabbing Baekhyun’s wrist, he pulls the man out into the corridor behind him. "Look, I get that you don't want to be stuck with me and that's fine but stop pretending you're the only person in this. Acting like a child doesn't help either of us. Do you think I want to be stuck like this with you?”</p><p>Baekhyun almost seemed speechless, the swell of his mouth snapping shut.</p><p>Kyungsoo forces himself not to look at the floor, for once remaining steadfast, the stretch of his back like iron. It's a moment dripping with uncut tension. It’s not often he has that many words to spare in one go.</p><p>It's broken by Baekhyun’s simple nod, and a hand to gesture Kyungsoo back inside. Anti-climactic. But Baekhyun's face, at arm’s length, could almost be read as impressed.</p><p>And for the next hour, Baekhyun does leave Kyungsoo be, fluttering in the background in an almost polite silence, sketching with quiet scratch strokes, balls and balls of crumpled paper overflowing the wastebasket. They eat lunch beside each other in the confines of the cubicle, a strangely companionable silence settling over them as they chew. Kyungsoo rests against the back of the chair, sinking back into the leather and letting his chopsticks clink against the side of the container. </p><p>Baekhyun is engrossed by his own food, shovelling whole lettuce wraps in his mouth as he taps at his phone. “I need another coffee,” he says out of the blue, eyes still glued to his screen, waving his hand in a circular motion as if to explain his words.</p><p>Kyungsoo satisfies his slight petty side by fixing his eyes on the cowlick at the side of Baekhyun’s head, and stands, already having finished.</p><p>Baekhyun follows with yet another eye-roll and a hand gesture Kyungsoo doesn't see or understand until he sees the trash can shake with impact.</p><p>With a blank look that is bordering on a glare, because how does a reusable container resemble rubbish, Kyungsoo rescues his container from the trash can. Holds it protectively as he picks up the rest of the trash littering his desk.</p><p>When Kyungsoo turns to fix Baekhyun with a stare after a sharp yank at his ribs, the other man's face holds no regret. In fact, no emotion at all, body turned out into the bullpen as if the cubicle wall has set an invisible line the man can't cross. Something Kyungsoo had noticed, for however much Baekhyun seemed to dislike people he always appeared to be drawn to them.</p><p>Kyungsoo sighs. Wisely staying silent - he does have a honed sense for self-preservation - Kyungsoo squeezes past Baekhyun, letting the man follow.</p><p>He doesn’t feel a pull.</p><p>“Hi hyung!” A sweet voice calls from Kyungsoo’s left not even halfway across the room.</p><p>“Hi Jongin,” Kyungsoo replies, turning to see the younger man approach in uniform holding his carry bag under his arm. He feels a spike in mood. “How many do you have today?”</p><p>Jongin slides the box into his hands. “Just this one. For Junmyeon.”</p><p>Kyungsoo smiles. It's hard not to around Jongin. (Not to mention Taemin has just appeared in his peripheral and it's no secret that the youngest worker in Choi Minho’s division has the biggest crush on their delivery boy). “He's in his office.”</p><p>Jongin grins from underneath a head of floppy brown hair. “Thanks, hyung.”</p><p>Baekhyun watches him go, not having said a word throughout the whole interaction and, having followed Kyungsoo's eyes, sees Kibum sniggering behind his hand at the display Taemin is making over Jongin’s exit (it's a feat that the younger man has actually managed to stay seated this time). Kibum doesn't dress what most would call conventional; today his cravat is pitch-black and the ‘work-regulation’ haircut is an inky navy with a lock curling onto his forehead and now Baekhyun is staring.</p><p>Kyungsoo bites his lip to stop his knee-jerk response to defend the man. Kibum may be prickly and stubborn, but he is a good man and entitled to dress the way he wanted.</p><p>But Baekhyun simply turns away, breaking his silence with, “that delivery boy was cute, <em> no?”  </em>Tone having risen suggestively, pitching at the end, Baekhyun focuses laser-sharp eyes at Kyungsoo, elegant eyebrow raised in a question mark. Despite the easy words his hands are white-knuckled at the base of his sweater’s hood.</p><p>So many things pass through Kyungsoo’s mind but don't escape his mouth, disbelief at Baekhyun's absolute nonchalance tripping up embarrassment and tangling with the acceptance and grudging admittance.</p><p>In the end, Baekhyun just shrugs and starts walking again. Didn't really care for Kyungsoo’s opinion then.</p><p>The both of them they make quick work, Baekhyun making his coffee with the ease of someone who has done the process a million times over while Kyungsoo washes their food containers. Quick but not smooth. It's been less than 24 hours since the magic trapped them together and it shows; Baekhyun moves without care and to his own drum, pulling Kyungsoo left and right while he retrieves the coffee. Kyungsoo sloshes a fair amount of water out of the sink as his leg, his arm, his elbow are all yanked from different directions.</p><p>During all this, Kyungsoo sees Joohyun’s young new intern Yerim walk in, see them, and then promptly walk out, hair swishing at her shoulders.</p><p>Reaching his boiling point, Kyungsoo stays his ground at the next pull.</p><p>Bitter coffee-smell saturates the air. Baekhyun curses. A puddle of black liquid swamps the countertop surrounding his mug.</p><p>Kyungsoo refuses to feel guilty regardless of the sharp sting he'd felt pulling at his own hand.</p><p>“For <em> fuck’s sake </em>watch yourself!” Baekhyun shout-spits a minute later, acidly, with the speed and sharpness of someone who is speaking reflexively out of pain. “You clumsy oaf,” tacks onto the end, a low muttered comment, barbed with the intent to wound. It shouldn't hurt, not by now, but the absolute look of disgust on Baekhyun's face as he looks at Kyungsoo does. The other man turns away cursing, one hand cupping his coffee-splashed wrist. He snatches the cloth Kyungsoo offers, mopping up the spill furiously.</p><p>Despite himself Kyungsoo feels a starburst of shame explode in his chest - all he did was stand his ground - and the tendrils of ease he'd started to feel around Baekhyun curl back in on themselves. They walk back to Kyungsoo’s temporary desk in silence, his ears still buzzing from the sudden attack. He settled uneasily back into his chair and tries to focus again on his work. He manages but an ache spreads from his lower back into his shoulders and neck from sitting so upright. Tense.</p><p>The intercom crackles.</p><p>
  <em> “This is a public service announcement.” </em>
</p><p>Kyungsoo's head tips up. That's Jongdae’s voice.</p><p>
  <em> “It's one-thirty pm currently and I'd just like to remind you all that no, laughing at Junmyeon’s jokes will not get you a pay-rise. Thank you and good afternoon to you all.” </em>
</p><p>Kyungsoo hides a grin behind his hand. It turns into a full-blown laugh when he sees Yifan shoot up, wild, and then bolt clumsily across the room.</p><p>“What's going on?” comes an amused voice from behind Kyungsoo.</p><p>With a movement unsurprisingly not stiff with surprise, Kyungsoo spins in his chair to see Junmyeon smiling genially behind his takeaway coffee cup. Their <em> boss. </em>A respected and feared business tycoon.</p><p>Kyungsoo puffs out his cheeks, pushing his fringe back from his forehead and letting it fall again. “Jongdae,” he admits.</p><p>Junmyeon’s sigh is one built from multiple occurrences and with the air of someone who expects better despite all previous data proving him wrong. He unwinds the slate-grey scarf from his neck. “Intercom again?”</p><p>Kyungsoo nods. Short, sharp. Painless.</p><p>Junmyeon claps him on the shoulder. Opens his mouth to say something, eyes flicking away for the briefest second, but with a helpless exasperated-fond head shake he cuts himself off and heads towards his office instead. (Not before picking up an eraser and bouncing it off the head of a sleeping Yixing).</p><p>Jongdae’s cackling laugh cuts off abruptly. He is returned to the office, to a desk on the opposite side of the room with an unapologetic grin and an occasional wince at Yifan’s grip on his ear.</p><p>With a shake of his head, albeit a fond one, Kyungsoo turns back to his computer. Drums his fingers on the desktop once as he thinks.</p><p>His phone screen lights up.</p><p>As he glances, more messages pop up. One then three then seven and so on until they fill up the screen. A continuous stream of text bubbles.</p><p>Kyungsoo sighs, slightly less fond, and picks up his phone. Unlocking it to remove the notifications, he only bothers to read the most recent.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Jongdae | 01:45 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> LOOK UP!! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Kyungsoo does.</p><p>Across the room Jongdae’s chin juts upwards, just clearing the transparent section of the cubicle wall. He pulls a face, one chin becoming three. It's hideous.</p><p>Kyungsoo’s mouth twitches.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Kyungsoo | 01:47 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> You're a moron. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Jongdae | 01:48 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> your* moron. you're stuck with me soo. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Kyungsoo smiles down at his phone. There's no doubt whatsoever that Jongdae’s inflicted ‘exile’ was an effort to cheer him up. </p><p>“- How has that man not been fired?” Baekhyun's voice interrupts Kyungsoo’s thoughts, again from behind Jongdae’s massive book, voice not pleasant but neither hostile, curiosity smoothing out the curves of his words.</p><p>Defensive protectiveness colours Kyungsoo’s words. “Jongdae is very good at his job. Intelligent, highly respected. A good worker. A good person.”</p><p>Lips pursed, perhaps at Kyungsoo’s staunchness, Baekhyun simply tilts his chin and returns his attention to the book.</p><p>Nothing more comes and so he swivels his chair back. From then on, the rest of his shift speeds by as it often does past the halfway mark. Hours blend into one another, filled with filing documents and sending emails, typing until his fingers ache and eyes tire. When it hits eight, Kyungsoo logs off and stands.</p><p><em> “Finally,” </em>  Baekhyun mutters not so quietly. It wasn't a secret that he was bored, having tired of Jongdae’s book an hour ago, head shooting up to stare hopefully at Kyungsoo every time another worker left the office.</p><p>They're at the bottom of the stairwell when someone calls Kyungsoo’s name.  </p><p>Stopping abruptly which causes a harsh tug at his chest, Kyungsoo turns in time to see Jongdae skip down the last few steps. When Jongdae reaches him he envelops him into a hug, whispering, “Take care Soo. Don't let him boss you around.”</p><p>Face tucking into Jongdae’s shoulder, the motorcycle leathers warm against his body, Kyungsoo squeezes his friend even tighter at the quiet words, and in gratitude for today.</p><p>When he pulls away, Jongdae smiles that cat-eye grin of his and, just to be an ass, ruffles Soo’s hair with the hand not holding his helmet, and waves goodbye. Jongdae disappears out of the stairwell and by the time Baekhyun deigns to move again, he is gone.</p><p>Baekhyun is silent on the bus ride home, slumped forward in his seat, back curving forward in a most-likely unhealthy way, face covered by the spread of his hands. His hair hangs, caught between his fingers, the locks surely brushing into his eyes. But Baekhyun does not move, even when they hit a pothole and a woman holding a bouquet hits him across the face with the orange carnations (Kyungsoo still aims his smile out the window just to be safe).</p><p>Surprisingly, Baekhyun does not startle, when Kyungsoo taps his shoulder at their stop.</p><p>Walking slow to not irritate the anchor holding them together - or the man he's trapped with - Kyungsoo tries to mentally prepare to have Baekhyun in his home again. Because now they're alone, nothing will stop Baekhyun's words from being all poison and barbs again. Except when they get through the door, tiredness making Kyungsoo’s movements heady, Baekhyun simply drags them to the couch using the anchor and slouches facedown onto the leather. Informal but not particularly mean-spirited.</p><p>“How do you do that job day after day?” He groans, stretching his back in a way Kyungsoo definitely doesn't watch. “I was there for a day and I wanted to kill someone."</p><p>Kyungsoo blinks somewhat rapidly, somewhat stupidly as he tries to process the question. Unknowingly, his body relaxes a fraction into the couch.</p><p>“It's challenging,” he admits, hesitantly, words pausing behind his lips as he struggles to explain himself. “I know the work and enjoy the company. I don't need a lot,” Kyungsoo finishes, staring at the interlocked cradle of his fingers, last word rising like a question, for some reason unsatisfied with his answers even though they're true.</p><p>Baekhyun makes a sound in the back of his throat. The other man’s eyes scan his face but with his neutral expression it's difficult to tell what exactly he is thinking.</p><p>Kyungsoo shifts. The shadows cast by Baekhyun's eyelashes and the dip of the overhead light make him look exhausted.</p><p>An odd sort of silence follows. Not comfortable but without incredible awkwardness, the hum of the slowly darkening night and the warmth of the leather from their body heat easing them both into what almost feels like contentment.</p><p>Then Kyungsoo’s stomach grumbles.</p><p>Thankfully, all the prodding needed to move them into the kitchen is a tentative “dinner?” Calm mood slightly disrupted, it’s still tense, but with Baekhyun engrossed in his phone and not deliberately trying to make him miserable it goes fairly quickly.</p><p>Showering is a whole other kettle of fish.</p><p>It's incredibly awkward, Kyungsoo avoids Baekhyun's eyes as he steps in, on the outside remaining unbothered but if he was a blusher, his face and neck would be horrendously, ridiculously red. It's so stifling knowing there's someone just outside the shower curtain - a flimsy barrier that's all too thin - that isn't there on purpose, not to mention the running water doesn't even block out Baekhyun's voice.</p><p>He's on the phone again and even though Kyungsoo switches off, fingers starting to rake conditioner through his hair, a few words slip through. <em> Date. Chanyeol. Boring. Oaf. </em>(Kyungsoo doesn't need to be a rocket scientist to figure out which are aimed at him).</p><p>When he turns the tap off five minutes later, silence falls thick and heavy onto the room. Baekhyun’s voice drops to a whisper. A sick feeling curls into Kyungsoo's stomach.</p><p>He dresses as fast as he can, and he's never been uncoordinated but suddenly his limbs are too big for the space, towel almost knocking the bottles off the built-in shelves, bumping the shower curtain and all the metal in the shower it seems - ouch - and he almost drops his sleep shirt into the water. Once dressed, unable to overcome his anxiety to step outside, Kyungsoo watches the ceramic under his feet until all the water has long-since drained.</p><p>Taking a deep breath and mustering what he calls his Jongdae-courage, Kyungsoo steps out of the shower.</p><p>Baekhyun turns. He's standing and his eyes scan from the towel around Kyungsoo's shoulders down to his black sweats. And Kyungsoo has never been ashamed of his feet, long and tan and skinny, but Baekhyun's eyes make him shift on the spot. A bead of water from his hair trails down his neck.</p><p>He clears his throat.</p><p>Baekhyun brushes close enough past that their shoulders knock.</p><p>Tonight, although with a command to hurry up, Baekhyun doesn't turn the light off until Kyungsoo is in bed.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this chapter is late and I have work, so edits will be made later! enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next morning Baekhyun is back to being a right ass.</p><p>He swears like a sailor when the alarm goes off, guttural words cutting into Kyungsoo's skin. Shoulders him out of the way to get the seat on the bus, smirking when Kyungsoo rights himself. And, when they finally get into the office, reclines languidly in the chair, a panther reading its prey, smugly filing his nails, a leg crossing over the other ankle.</p><p>Looking extremely put-out, Baekhyun sighs, pointing the sharp end of the file at Kyungsoo. “Look. I have a thing tonight and I'm not missing it. It's been in the making for months and this <em>thing</em>,” he pauses angrily, gesturing between the both of them, “is not going to get in the way of it. <em> Okay?” </em></p><p>Kyungsoo's eyes ache. But his voice is steady when he says, “details then, <em> please.” </em></p><p>Baekhyun scribbles something on a piece of paper, pen pushing down so hard it's surprising it doesn't rip, and tears it off, balling it up and throwing it. (It bounces off Kyungsoo’s chest). All that is written is a time, a number and an address.</p><p>Uncannily, Jongdae's head appears over the cubicle wall. He pretends to be surprised when he sees Kyungsoo, tucking his teeth under his gums.</p><p>It chokes a laugh out of him. Hesitant but a laugh nonetheless.</p><p>Jongdae disappears back into his seat (today he’s swamped with mountains of paperwork - Kyungsoo got a text bemoaning it earlier - and therefore most likely won't resurface until after lunch).</p><p>His phone beeps.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Jongdae | 10:26 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> fighting!</em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Baekhyun's mood changes dramatically after lunch.</p><p>It's almost as if he's forgotten who he's talking to, and if they weren't literally connected to one another Kyungsoo would've thought he was abducted by aliens, the personality switch is that dramatic. He almost borders on friendly, wandering around as far as the anchor will let him, Kyungsoo’s stationery in his hands.</p><p>After an hour, Kyungsoo isn't bothered anymore, stopping checking his shoulder suspiciously, turning back again to try to find the folder currently lost in his - Luhan’s - drawer, the hole-punch tight in his right fist.</p><p>A hand comes down on his shoulder. “What's he sulking about now?” Jongdae's voice is amused but guarded. The dislike is obvious.</p><p>Kyungsoo half-turns. Baekhyun is indeed sulking, frowning deep with arms crossed tight over his chest. "I confiscated the hole-punch."</p><p>Jongdae rolls his eyes.</p><p>“You finished?” Kyungsoo asks, moving so Jongdae’s arm falls around his shoulders.</p><p>With the usual dramatics, Jongdae flings his other arm away, leaning against the cubicle wall with a hand against his forehead.</p><p>“Kyungsoo,” he says, voice breaking in the middle, “there were two-hundred documents. Two-hundred! When I close my eyes that's all I can see.”</p><p>“Drama queen,” Kyungsoo mutters, grinning when Jongdae’s eyes snap open and he accidentally smacks himself trying to clutch his chest.</p><p>“Me!?”</p><p>Kyungsoo grins but the reality of the situation is hard to forget, especially when the problem is sitting less than two metres away, physically tied to him.</p><p>Jongdae notices immediately when Kyungsoo's mood changes and the silly smile drops off his face. </p><p>For a minute they watch Baekhyun in silence, who is either unaware or uncaring of their conversation, sketching on the stolen writing pad, now with headphones in.</p><p>Kyungsoo clears his throat. Tries to be brave enough to broach the topic, even though Jongdae has been his friend for over a decade and wouldn’t judge. Never has. “Hey, Dae. Could you please do me a favour?”</p><p>“Anything.”</p><p> “Come to dinner with me tonight? Please.”</p><p>“What time will you pick me up, stud?” Jongdae flirts, batting his eyelashes.</p><p>“Seven-thirty.”</p><p>Jongdae’s mouth twists into a frown. “I don't finish until seven-twenty.” He taps at his chin, another age-old tendency of his. “Can I meet you there?”</p><p>“That works,” Kyungsoo says, but his voice isn't quite as confident as it should be.</p><p>“What's wrong?” Jongdae asks, gentle.</p><p>“It’s for Baekhyun. At Emporium.”</p><p>Jongdae whistles. Long and slow and loud. “Damn.”</p><p>“I know,” Kyungsoo replies, pinching his nose from under his glasses to dry the sweat.</p><p>Emporium was a five-star restaurant in the centre of the city, the prize jewel nestled in the affluent breast of the high-class, an establishment that swept three floors with chandeliers that dripped diamonds and a waiting list eight months long. Food that was prepared by renowned chefs and cost a hundred dollars a plate.</p><p>Money that Kyungsoo ultimately couldn't afford to spare.</p><p>“Who is this guy?” Jongdae muses, both suspicious and curious, eyes narrowed past Kyungsoo's head.</p><p>When Jongdae’s eyes refocus, he sees something in Kyungsoo’s eyes that has him steepling his fingers. “Okay Soo here's the plan. Tonight we're going to go out. You're gonna put on that three-piece suit I know you have and you're gonna treat yourself. Because - <em> and don't protest or I swear to god </em>- you don't do that enough.”</p><p>Despite the somewhat forceful approach, relief spreads under Kyungsoo’s skin, gratitude bursting at the seams of his “thank you.”</p><p>He turns for a hug.</p><p>Jongdae, however, is gone, and only the vestige of an ‘eek’ trailing behind him and a ratty black converse peeking out allows Kyungsoo’s eyes to locate where his best friend went. His best friend who is now crouched under the desk with a finger over his lips.</p><p>“Who are you hiding from?” Kyungsoo hisses, suddenly furious. Jongdae can be such a fucking idiot sometimes.</p><p> Jongdae shrugs his shoulders. Meekly.</p><p>“Hi, Kyungsoo!”</p><p>Kyungsoo whirls around at the new voice, heart in his throat, but it settles, body relaxing when he sees it's not their boss. Despite himself, he feels himself break into an easy smile. “Hi, Jinki.”</p><p>Jinki was their most recently-hired intern who they would most likely place in Minho's division. As he was transitioning slowly from his old job, he only worked Mondays and Wednesdays, which was a pity because he had the type of bubbly personality that could win over anyone - he managed to make Kibum smile on his first day - and a smile that would make anyone's heart flutter (Kyungsoo may or may not have blushed the first time). With his youthful boyish face and expressive eyes, it was easy to forget he was five years Kyungsoo’s senior.</p><p>Jinki waves his goodbye, obviously just passing through on the way to his desk. He shoots an inquisitive look behind Kyungsoo’s shoulder. At the hooded figure at his desk. At Baekhyun. </p><p>Kyungsoo shrugs.</p><p>“I hate you,” Kyungsoo mumbles when Jongdae straightens up, shaking out his limbs and complaining about his sore thighs. Kyungsoo waits until the other man looks at him before he smacks him upside the head. “You are an actual pain in my ass.”</p><p>Jongdae whines even louder then, rubbing at the back of his hair.</p><p>“What did you even do this time?”</p><p>“Nothing…” Jongdae says, lying smoothly.</p><p>Kyungsoo doesn't know why he bothers. Sometimes Jongdae just has no common sense. He raises an eyebrow.</p><p>A beat.</p><p>“KIM JONGDAE!” comes a bellow from across the room.</p><p>As if electrocuted, Jongdae jolts stock-straight, eyes widening. He bolts. </p><p>"I take absolutely no responsibility for this!" Jongdae shouts as he runs, winding his way through the cubicles of the office.</p><p>That means it's undoubtedly, one-hundred percent his fault.</p><p>Kyungsoo sighs.</p><p>Baekhyun pulls an earbud out. "What's happening now?”</p><p>"Jongdae probably stole all of Yifan’s stationery again or something," Kyungsoo replies, not bothering to look at the snide man behind him.</p><p>Yifan runs past a few seconds later, skin a paler shade of blue today, confirming Kyungsoo’s prediction. Not that it's a hard one to get right.</p><p>"How'd you know?" Baekhyun actually sounds impressed. It's a nice change from muted annoyance.</p><p>"It happens about once a day. When Jongdae gets bored he does all kinds of annoying things."</p><p>Baekhyun sniffs. Turns back to the sketch pad, slender fingers curling around the back to partially cover what looks like a rough sketch of a jacket emblazoned with stars.</p><p>That's the end of that conversation.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Kyungsoo leans against the wall by the water cooler, holding his binder to his chest. He allows himself to curve a little more into the support, the edge of his folder a familiar weight in his palms.</p><p>Baekhyun dragged him over at half-past two for a drink but they've been here now for going on ten minutes, Baekhyun having struck up a surprisingly civil conversation with Kibum. (It doesn’t escape Kyungsoo’s notice that Baekhyun’s hood is down around his shoulders).</p><p>“Hello, Kyungsoo!” Son Seungwan calls out in English as she passes.</p><p>“Hello,” he replies in a mimic of her perfect accent, returning the tiny woman’s teasing grin.</p><p>Transferred from the Canadian branch, Son Seungwan was one-fifth of Bae Joohyun’s department, running International Relations pretty much by herself. Friendly and outgoing, she was always testing Kyungsoo’s grasp of English by popping up in the most random of places.</p><p>With that brief burst of civil conversation, Kyungsoo finds himself bouncing on his toes. Even better, Jongdae joins him another five minutes later, leaning against the wall next to him.</p><p>“Meet Byun Baekhyun,” he mutters quietly, crossing his arms against his chest. “Owner of the fashion magazine ‘CBX’ and semi-famous in the world of design. Moving up too by the looks of it.”</p><p>They watch Kibum and Baekhyun talk, Kibum with an arm resting on the water cooler and Baekhyun gesticulating with slender hands as he speaks.</p><p>“No wonder he's a diva,” Jongdae mutters.</p><p>However, realisation is dawning for Kyungsoo because it “makes sense he expected I’d know him,” he says quietly, almost to himself. <em> Why he’d been so panicked and angry that night.  </em></p><p>Jongdae looks him up and down, slow. The corner of his mouth curls up. “Does it?”</p><p>Kyungsoo snorts. He’s firmly devoted to his white shirt, black pants and oversized sweater combo; this one with a hole in the elbow of the sleeves. </p><p>He eyes Jongdae’s own ripped skinny jeans and massive black hoodie critically - the relaxed dress code courtesy of casual Friday. “Says the poster child for angsty emo teens,” he retorts lazily.</p><p>Jongdae throws his head back, laughing throatily, unzipping his hoodie to reveal an obnoxious, bright-yellow t-shirt. “How about now?”</p><p>Kyungsoo fights his own smile long enough to say in a deadpan voice. “A bumblebee.”</p><p>This time Kyungsoo joins Jongdae's laugh and it's enough to bring Baekhyun and Kibum out of their conversation.</p><p>“While I'm sure the joke is plenty amusing,” Kibum says dryly, starting to walk away, cardigan tails trailing behind him. “I shall be back to my work now.”</p><p>Now, with no one to entertain him, Baekhyun starts walking back, Kyungsoo having no choice to follow. Jongdae is on their heels with an irritated huff in Kyungsoo’s ear.</p><p>Yifan, Junmyeon and Yixing have congregated around Yixing’s desk which is on their path to Kyungsoo’s desk. Surprisingly, Baekhyun stops. The senior men are centred around Yifan who is leaning against the desk, is in the middle of a story, pinching his nose - lightened to a periwinkle today.</p><p>Yifan sighs with a breath too laden with exhaustion for a man his age. His voice is laced with disappointment, his voice cracking on the last word. “A kid just asked me if I was from the Simpsons. I'm <em> blue </em>.”</p><p>The laughter bubbles out of Kyungsoo's throat before he can stop it. Out of his peripheral, he sees Baekhyun shift.</p><p>Their eyes meet.</p><p>Baekhyun's mouth twitches. Up and down he battles hard against it but in the end, he can't fight it and his mouth breaks into a wide grin. Boxy and genuine, lifting the apples of his cheeks and squeezing his eyes tight.</p><p>Their gazes hold. Neither of their smiles fade. Something shifts.</p><p>Kyungsoo looks away.</p><p>Ultimately, the moment is lost amongst Yifan’s awkward giggle and Jongdae’s raucous laughter but Kyungsoo doesn't miss the backwards foot-step of Baekhyun consciously pausing for him when they return to his desk.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Almost like patched clockwork or an uneven tide, Baekhyun's mood ebbs, and Kyungsoo isn't surprised but something like disappointed when Baekhyun returns to giving him the cold shoulder on the bus. So different to the man who politely tidied up Kyungsoo's desk not even an hour earlier.</p><p><em> It's tiresome, </em>Kyungsoo thinks as he works the product into his hair blind - Baekhyun hogging the mirror - never knowing what attitude to expect and having to watch his back constantly. Having a person attached, ball and chain, who can't seem to stand you.</p><p>Baekhyun looks up from his phone. “My suit was dropped at the doorstep ten minutes ago.”</p><p>Almost as if waiting for his words, there is a knock at the door.</p><p>A knock that coincides with Kyungsoo’s own phone lighting up in his hand.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Jongdae | 06:02 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> open the door fucker </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Well, that'll be the suit,” Kyungsoo drones dryly making his own mouth twitch at the not-quite joke. His smile doesn't even falter when he feels Baekhyun giving him the side-eye. Small joys.</p><p>The knocking intensifies.</p><p>Kyungsoo opens the door to Jongdae’s hand posed to knock again, waving a suit-bag off a lazy finger with a secretive grin.  </p><p>Kyungsoo gets a “hi Soo!” And a giant grin while Baekhyun gets shouldered past and a half-hearted, “I assume <em>this </em>is yours,” when the suit bag is pressed none-too-gently into Baekhyun's chest.</p><p>Ignoring the tug at the small of his back, Kyungsoo spins leaving Baekhyun to shut the door, finally feeling like the ball is in his court. It feels good. </p><p>(Trust apathy to only kick in now. Jongdae has always been his bravery).</p><p>Kyungsoo waits until they're away from the door before speaking. “I thought you didn't finish work until later?”</p><p>“Junmyeon let me take my work home granted I got it done,” Jongdae explains, flopping cross-legged onto the couch. “I just thought I'd drop these off.”</p><p>Kyungsoo easily catches the keys Jongdae throws at him but the metal stings his palm. “When did you get these?”</p><p>Jongdae shrugs. “Went after lunch and talked Seungcheol into it.”</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>Eyes on him, Jongdae nods but doesn't say anything more.</p><p>Not many would be able to tell it, but Jongdae isn't quite as relaxed as he usually is. Kyungsoo knows. Although still lounging on the couch, his back is stiffer than usual, and rather than being swallowed by his massive hoodie the sleeves are rolled to his elbow.</p><p>A voice breaks the conversation almost cautiously, and in all honesty, Kyungsoo had genuinely forgotten about him for a moment. “What are you talking about?”</p><p>Neither Jongdae or Kyungsoo answer for a second, leaving Baekhyun's words to trail awkward into the air.</p><p>Kyungsoo clears his throat. “Jongdae brought my car from the mechanic.”</p><p>Kyungsoo had been bringing his car into Seungcheol’s auto mechanics shop for as long as he had had it. The man, their age but already self-sufficient, knew Jongdae and Kyungsoo not only but name and face but also as a close friend. He often gave them discounts, or perks like letting Jongdae ‘check-out’ Kyungsoo's car for him.</p><p>When Baekhyun doesn't offer a snarky reply Kyungsoo realises it's because of Jongdae. He’s unsure if it's wariness, fear, or because of their similarities in personality, but it is odd.</p><p>“I better go,” Jongdae says, looking at his watch. “I’d better get back to my work if I want to be finished on time.”</p><p> “You'll be there tonight?” Kyungsoo asks, a seed of doubt dripping into his voice, the anxious part of him that is always constant rearing its head.  He hears and feels more than sees Baekhyun's head swing towards them.</p><p>“It's a date!” Jongdae says cheerfully, reassuringly, forever a rock, winding Kyungsoo into a brief but tight hug and then vanishing out the door.</p><p>Without his presence, the air sucks dry, empty, quiet, a game of who will fill the silence first.</p><p>Neither do. They both sit, as far away from one another as physically possible. An hour and a half later, almost by default, they head to Kyungsoo’s bedroom with Baekhyun in front.</p><p>Kyungsoo's suit jacket is slightly tighter around his shoulders than it used to be and he can feel it pull when he fastens his cufflinks: simple silver rectangles, understated, not like the lightning-shaped ones Jongdae had urged him to buy by standing in front of the display saying “you're a wizard Kyungsoo.”</p><p>Before he rounds the door, Kyungsoo nervously plucks at a piece of fluff dotted on his trousers. Straightens his bow tie and adjusts his watch, sliding his phone into his inner suit pocket. God, he hasn't worn this suit since Seungcheol’s wedding a year and a half ago.</p><p>Baekhyun doesn’t say anything like Kyungsoo expects him to, but with a step forward that has Kyungsoo sucking in breath in surprise, tucks a pristine white handkerchief into Kyungsoo’s breast pocket. The hands are only there briefly, but the action has his eyes widening.</p><p>Accompanying Baekhyun’s sharp turn is a gust of wind in Kyungsoo’s face, and he follows the man’s wake as he strides out the front door.</p><p>There are no comments on Kyungsoo’s car, but there is a thinly-veiled shock in the hands that skim the black window frame.</p><p><em> Nicer than you were expecting huh, </em>Kyungsoo thinks.</p><p>Magic bites at his shoulder before he can get to the drivers’ side. It hurts. <em> What are the parameters of this? It obviously can't exceed two metres because that would lead them to be able to get into their seats, and that doesn't even include the added width of opening their respective doors. </em></p><p>There's grumbling from behind him.</p><p>Gritting his teeth, Kyungsoo walks back around the front of the car, shouldering Baekhyun out of the way to get in the passenger’s side, before climbing over the console to get behind the wheel.</p><p>Slightly dishevelled but refusing to feel embarrassed about it, Kyungsoo simply raises an eyebrow at the man standing outside.</p><p>Lips thinned almost to nothing, Baekhyun slides into his own seat.</p><p><em> Maybe he's just angry that our suits were almost identical, </em>Kyungsoo thinks, his lips quirking sourly.</p><p>But - fingers drumming along the steering wheel as he watches the yellow street-lights as they pass, lightening the dark interior of the car in fractions, half-shadowing Baekhyun's face, the console, his hands - the humour doesn't last long.</p><p>Not even the quiet music from the radio can make the air less stifling. </p><p>Not with the weight of Baekhyun’s eyes on him. Not even slightly subtle, gaze lingering on Kyungsoo's hands, his shoulders, the side of his face. </p><p>Most likely judging the quality of his suit but Kyungsoo's ears burn. His jaw clenches. </p><p>But even with his eyes on the road, Kyungsoo notices Baekhyun's hand twitching near the aux cord curling out from the radio set. After, well, everything it doesn't make sense that he wouldn't just take it.</p><p><em> Do it, </em>Kyungsoo urges in his mind, almost angrily. </p><p>It’s not like he's even given a shit about what Kyungsoo thought… Then again what does he actually know about Baekhyun other than his name, job and the fact he can't stand Kyungsoo with a single fibre of his being?</p><p>When they arrive, Kyungsoo gets out of the car (from the passenger’s side) onto a shining black pavement, as if glitter has been inlaid into the concrete to make it shine.</p><p>Resisting the urge to spin around to take in it all, Kyungsoo just takes in what he can see without moving his head. They've parked at the top of a semi-circle under an arch plated in gold. Waltz music streams from hidden speakers, wafting through the air along with a cloud of sweet-smelling perfume.</p><p>A woman swans past in a pale blue gown, hair swept up in a complicated up-do-thing, necklace and bracelets sparkling under the golden light.</p><p>Kyungsoo can't help but be aware of just how out of place he is.</p><p>A man appears at his side, suit jacket buttoned up to mid-chest, white patterns detailing his shoulders. His white-gloved hand is outstretched. “Good evening sir.”</p><p>Kyungsoo places his keys into the valet's hand. The brief flash of surprise on his face when Kyungsoo thanks him is both comical and upsetting.</p><p>A hard tug at his wrist alerts him that Baekhyun is moving. A thin bracelet of pain seems to slip right between his bones.</p><p>Kyungsoo follows closely behind, quiet, intrigued despite his discomfort. As they pass through the large entrance doors that are held open for them, he feels his eyes widen behind his glasses.</p><p>Extravagant is the only word to describe this. The restaurant is open-plan, circular, and Kyungsoo can see the other diners up above framed behind glass and golden bannisters. The chandelier is gigantic, spanning the top two floors in the centre of the room, diamonds refracting coloured lights across the restaurant. The colour scheme contrasts light with dark, mahogany walls and low light against the white diamonds and marble. A soft melody plays in the background.</p><p>“Byun Baekhyun,” Baekhyun says smoothly to the maître d, interrupting Kyungsoo's thought process and managing to make himself look ten-feet tall in front of the lectern despite it being at chest-height. “I trust you received the information about my, <em> situation.” </em></p><p>The man doesn't even spare one look at Kyungsoo. “We certainly did Mr Byun. Table four and five are both under your name.”</p><p>It's like he doesn't even exist.</p><p>“And my guest?”</p><p>“<em> She </em>is already seated,” The maître d says politely but when his eyes finally flick to Kyungsoo they're cold. His lip curls.</p><p>Kyungsoo decides he doesn't like Emporium much.</p><p>Baekhyun moves away from the lectern, spares a “let’s go,” for Kyungsoo but not a look.</p><p>Kyungsoo follows, almost like a child, as Baekhyun weaves through tables, pausing to shake hands and acknowledge greetings called out to him. <em>‘Semi’</em> <em>famous</em> his ass.</p><p>Nobody acknowledges him. It suits him fine but his throat fills with thorns at the feeling of all of the eyes on him.</p><p>When they reach the outer edge of the room, more private and with dimmer lighting, Baekhyun falls into step with him (Kyungsoo almost falters in surprise).</p><p>“Table five is yours. They will let your guest in when he arrives.” He doesn't wait for the thank you Kyungsoo wasn't going to offer and walks ahead to slide gracefully into a seat, holding his suit to his stomach, leaving the cord to pull painfully at Kyungsoo’s arm until he has to start to move. Awkwardly, past their table.</p><p>He can’t help but glance back as he does.</p><p>She is, of course, stunning. Her long, straight hair parts in the middle and falls in a perfect sheet of black to frame small features and dark dark eyes. Her face is sharp, angular. She sits tall and straight and slender, fit perfectly into a scarlet gown, snow-white skin flawless, the jut of her collarbone and slope of her chest gleaming under the golden light.</p><p>Kyungsoo slips into his own seat, separated by Baekhyun's only by a thin partition. Back-to-back then, as close as the restaurant seating will allow. </p><p>As soon as he has the chance to take a breath, with a faint pull at his lower back, a waitress arrives at his side.</p><p>Her light-brown hair is pulled back severally, the cut of her chin sharp, model-like, and that makes Kyungsoo all the more wary. “Good evening sir. I've been notified that your guest has not arrived yet. Would you still like to order a drink?”</p><p>“Red wine please,” Kyungsoo asks after a pause, trying not to sound as awkward as he feels, knowing perfectly well Jongdae will order the most ridiculous cocktail for him if he doesn’t have a drink when his friend arrives.</p><p>“Preference for date, label or producer?”</p><p>“No,” Kyungsoo responds, trying to not to phrase it as a question.</p><p>The waitress bobs her head, bird-like with the hollow of her throat, elegant top-knot unmoving with the movement. “ID please.”</p><p>A flicker of irritation (and nerves) must show because the waitress giggles, and just like that her impersonal demeanour cracks. She becomes a person. He notices how tiny she is. “Sorry, I have to ask.”</p><p>Kyungsoo smiles at her. Hands his licence over, feeling a smidgen more comfortable to know that not everyone here is a robot.</p><p>“My name is Luna,” she says, her pen moving across the paper before she hands his ID back between two slender fingers. Leans in slightly to whisper, “it makes me feel better to know that there's someone here that feels like I do.”</p><p>She gives him another smile before making a show of walking back across the room towards the kitchen, gold tray held aloft by one wrist.</p><p>He feels as if he can breathe easier.</p><p>But still, staring at the table with the corner of his thumbnail between his teeth gets tiring, so he looks up around the room.</p><p>Most patrons aren't that interesting, dining quietly, making conversation over the table, rows of identical mannequins pulled by their puppeteers of social standing and etiquette.</p><p>So Kyungsoo’s eyes are drawn to two incongruous, middle-aged men in the opposite corner. One is ridiculously tall, and the other,  smaller man, for some reason is wearing a deerstalker. Nobody bats an eye at them, even though their argument is increasing in volume. They start slapping at each other and Kyungsoo grins despite himself. The taller man clearly has the advantage with size, but he is cowering from the shorter man’s rough slaps.</p><p>In the end the argument simmers down and they're laughing together over their glasses of whiskey as if nothing happened.</p><p>Although having ignored the two older men, everyone's heads swivel when the newest patron walks in.</p><p>It's a younger man, younger than Kyungsoo, in a bomber jacket over nice jeans, uncaring of the disapproving stares and whispers he's getting, emanating confidence like he could get any woman in the room. His face is beautiful, chiselled cheekbones and light brown hair waving over his forehead. He stops under the golden light a few metres from Kyungsoo and breaks into one of the most perfect smiles he's ever seen, with straight, blindingly white teeth. Changes direction to a booth a few rows away from the two men.</p><p>Towards a man in a suit, all crafted hair, round cheeks and a loud sassy voice that echoes a greeting.</p><p>They kiss.</p><p>They're cute, Kyungsoo thinks with a ridiculous ache in his chest. Like chalk and cheese. So wrapped up within one another they don't notice the disapproving murmurs and evil-eye.</p><p>Behind him, he hears Baekhyun laugh, a loud obnoxious chuckle, and the quiet but musical echo of a higher-pitched laugh. Immediately, Kyungsoo is back on guard, tense, very aware of how alone he is. He starts nibbling at his pinkie finger.</p><p>“Sorry I'm late <em>babe,” </em>comes a loud voice, so familiar Kyungsoo could recognise it from miles away, and he looks up to see Jongdae standing handsome in a dark red suit, eyes twinkling. He drops one eye in a wink.</p><p>“You're late,” Kyungsoo points out, looking up from a brief glance at his watch with a corner of a smile playing at his mouth.</p><p>“I'm sorry, my private jet was delayed,” Jongdae replies, kissing Kyungsoo obnoxiously on both cheeks so quickly he doesn't even have time to lean away, before sitting and leaning forward to add, “or whatever bullshit excuse people like this use,” with a flippant wave of his hand.</p><p>Kyungsoo wipes his face. “Got all your work done then?”</p><p>Jongdae groans, shifting in his seat. “Barely. The accounts from Sooman took forever to fix - it's like the man has no clue how to promote his company. Not to mention Mark Lee’s file had so many holes in it, his old accountant may as well have gotten his degree from a cereal box.”</p><p>Kyungsoo hums.</p><p>Jongdae taps the gilded menu across his knee and then flips it open. They settle into a comfort born from years of friendship, neither of them necessarily having to speak to have a conversation, Kyungsoo would forever be envious of Jongdae who looked inquisitive in his silence whereas he only ever managed to look sullen.</p><p>“Here's your drink,” Luna says, cutting gracefully into the pause of the conversation, placing the wine at Kyungsoo’s elbow; fingers dancing along the stem as she transfers the glass onto mahogany. “Would you like to order a drink now sir?”</p><p>Kyungsoo rolls his eyes, hard, when Jongdae asks for a cocktail, words wrapping around a name almost two sentences long. <em> Ridiculous. </em></p><p>Jongdae just grins sharply back, handing over his ID without needing a prompt.</p><p>Luna leaves and returns with breadsticks in a vase-like container the frosted glass twisting and curving into an elegant curve, and Jongdae’s drink dressed in a champagne flute; looking almost venomous in colour, aqua transitioning into a lightly glowing green.</p><p>“Wow, they can even make a cocktail seem ridiculously high-class,” Jongdae mutters to them both once Luna has left with their food orders, cheek pressed to the table to stare at the drink, index finger tracing the gold accents.</p><p>Whatever Kyungsoo was going to say is lost in a violent pull at his navel.</p><p>Gut-wrenching like someone has taken a hold of his insides through his stomach and <em>yanked, </em> he flattens himself to the seat in hope to lessen the pressure. It twists. Kyungsoo’s jaw clenches, eyes squeezed to try and think of anything else but the fact it <em>hurts</em>.</p><p>In between one gasp and the next, the pain is gone, Baekhyun having relaxed in his seat again or something but the pain doesn't leave, merely dulls into a throb.</p><p>And to think sitting back-to-back had almost felt like a sense of freedom.</p><p>Jongdae is frowning. Deep, the kind Kyungsoo hates, with eyebrows pulled in harsh and mouth drawn into a line and half-paused in the lunge forward he had made when Kyungsoo had first gasped. Albeit reluctantly, he sits at the wave of Kyungsoo's hand.</p><p>Kyungsoo fixes his eyes on the breadsticks to try and distract from the ache. They do look delicious, of course, perfect and golden, identical rows of sweet-smelling bread, peppered with chives.</p><p>Jongdae's hand closes around one.</p><p>And throws it over the partition.</p><p>Kyungsoo doesn't quite believe what he sees until a clunk, a shriek and the clatter of silverware and ceramic.</p><p>Eyes swivel in their direction.</p><p>“Oh, I'm terribly sorry sir!” Jongdae cries, pitching his voice loud and overly posh, “I simply failed to hold on to my breadstick!”</p><p>Truly helpless to stop it, a laugh bursts out and Kyungsoo doesn't – can’t - stop until his stomach hurts for another reason, and there are tears forming at his eyes.</p><p>Luna’s eyes are dancing when she approaches the table with their meals, cheeks rising under the light, smile lines prominent in the slight shadowing that dapples her face when she bends to place their plates beside their elbows.</p><p>Kyungsoo’s laughter tapers off and, wiping at his eyes, almost misses the smile Luna shoots him. “Thank you,” he says to her earnestly.</p><p>“Thank you,” Jongdae adds, and his eyes flick up from underneath his eyelashes. Tilts his head so a lock of hair falls slightly onto his forehead, and Kyungsoo wouldn’t have even noticed if he hadn’t literally known the man for over a decade.</p><p>Luna dips her head, hugging her serving tray to her blouse. She’s still grinning. It falters slightly and Kyungsoo sees her hand flick up to her ear briefly where he now sees a wire. “If you’ll excuse me,” she says.</p><p>"I'll have you know Soo, that I am distinctly uncomfortable with all of this," Jongdae starts, pointing his fork at Kyungsoo after he swallows his first mouthful of pasta.</p><p>"Sure, you are," He snorts because Jongdae has always managed to fit his edges comfortably to wherever he wished. A situation chameleon.</p><p>Still, Kyungsoo is glad that Jongdae is here. It keeps him from thinking just what is going on behind his back right now.</p><p>Jongdae leans back against the seat, casual, crossing his legs out and stretching. “So, what do you think of Jinki?”</p><p>“He’ll be a good addition to the team.”</p><p>Jongdae fixes him with a look so unamused, his eyebrows defy gravity to somehow become even straighter.</p><p>“Oh!” Kyungsoo exclaims, with a burst of embarrassment at his naivety. "He's cute I guess.” He says after a thoughtful pause, very non-committal, twirling his fork through his vegetables. Jinki <em> is </em>cute and sweet, but just because he's gay doesn't mean he fancies every single man that walks in.</p><p>Jongdae muses over his answer, tapping his knife against his chin. Shrugs. Lets it go with a, “just wondering.”</p><p>"How's it going?" Soo asks quietly before he can hold it back, and immediately hates himself.</p><p>Jongdae looks confused for a second before a realisation takes over. Stands, because he has absolutely no shame and peers through the transparent crystal that tops the partitions. "Good,” he says, half-squatting to stay ‘hidden,’ “they're very close, poring over something. She's stunning, must be a model of some kind,” Jongdae says but trails off seeing something in Kyungsoo’s face he wished he could hide better.</p><p>(Not from Jongdae though, he can't hide anything from Jongdae)</p><p>
  <em> “Soo.” </em>
</p><p>Kyungsoo shrugs; not really a shrug at all but a roll of one shoulder accompanied by an upward tilt of his mouth he doesn't really mean. Fiddles with his glass, unsure how to proceed. A loss of what to say, about how to explain.</p><p>Jongdae shifts. Blinks away whatever had shuttered his eyes and moves on without a word. “How's Jo Jung Suk been?”</p><p>Now that was someone Kyungsoo hadn't seen in a long time. “I haven't seen him for about three months, he's been rehearsing for his most recent musical.”</p><p>Kyungsoo had met Jo Jung Suk ten years ago when the older man had signed on as the new director at the local theatre. Although his acting dreams hadn't lasted long, left behind in a last-ditch effort to try and salvage the relationship with his parents - fat lot of good that did - Jung Suk had made a bigger impact on him in a year than any of his other teachers had in all five years in high-school. Once he quit, Kyungsoo hadn't seen the older man for four years, until he quite literally stumbled into him after one of his musicals. The twelve-year gap made their friendship an odd one, but it almost felt like having an older brother.</p><p>There’s a collective gasp, practically a gun-shot in the previous low volume, and both their eyes are drawn to a table surrounded by people, encircling a man down on one knee. As they watch, the woman, with tears in her eyes and hands fluttering at her throat, nods. They kiss.</p><p>Several waiters appear, carrying a giant tiered cake. Even from a distance, he can see the piped white and gold flowers and the detailed centre-piece. Kyungsoo supposes appearances are the only thing that keeps them from staggering under the weight - <em> all for an engagement? </em></p><p>Metal clatters on a plate. Kyungsoo jolts, turning back to see Jongdae move, sliding out of the chair, hand moving to fiddle with the ever-present ring on his index finger.</p><p>His words escape in a panicked hiss. “We are not faking a proposal for free dessert.”</p><p>Jongdae ignores him, one knee pressed onto the polished floor. “Kyungsoo.”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Do Kyungsoo.”</p><p><em> “No,” </em>Kyungsoo says more firmly and promptly chokes on his steak.</p><p>He emerges red-faced and spluttering, waving frantically at Jongdae to <em>stop the bullshit, people are starting to stare. </em></p><p>Jongdae’s throat vibrates at the force of his laughter. With eyes curled into crescents, he slides the ring back onto his finger and takes his seat again. Winces and rubs at the shin Kyungsoo just kicked under the table, downturned head muffling his words. “Don't worry babe, we’re not quite there yet.”</p><p>Kyungsoo can't help but laugh.</p><p>For the rest of the main meal, Jongdae flirts outrageously. Hangs onto every word Kyungsoo says with his chin cradled in his palm, fluttering his eyelashes every time they make eye contact. Playfully bats Kyungsoo’s arm every time he makes something resembling a joke followed by a ridiculously loud peal of laughter (or even when he doesn’t, covering any conversation from the table behind him). Pauses with his last strand of pasta in his mouth and waits until Kyungsoo is looking before wiggling his eyebrows.</p><p>Kyungsoo’s sides ache from the constant laughing, and in return, teasingly runs his foot up Jongdae’s shin.</p><p>Jongdae inhales on a laugh, just as he has taken a mouthful of his drink.</p><p>His face contorts. His throat works frantically, eyes squinted and cheeks puffed, and just as Kyungsoo thinks he’s going to spray the contents everywhere, Jongdae swallows.</p><p>Uncontrollably, he hacks out a cough, mouth pressed into the crook of his elbow, one palm pressed flat to the table. His body wracks.</p><p>Just as Kyungsoo’s smile falters and he reaches his hand out in concern (leaning forward, Baekhyun be damned), Jongdae straightens up, and still coughing, grins at him. Wheezes out, “that brings a whole new meaning to choking,” before breaking down into another bout of coughing, intermittent with a cackling that wavers like an ocean.</p><p>Jongdae is face-down on the table when Luna walks back over, and Kyungsoo has to wipe his eyes before he faces her.</p><p>Sighs. “My manager is saying that your table is getting a little rowdy,” her eyes flick upwards for the briefest second, “so I’m contractually obliged to ask you two lovebirds to tone it down a little please.”</p><p>Face red, and lines patterned across his cheeks, Jongdae lifts his head. Winks. “We aren’t dating, but yeah we’ll tone it down.”</p><p>Kyungsoo waits with a smile until Luna has collected their empty dishes and walked away before flicking Jongdae in the forehead.</p><p>“YAH!” If they were at the beach Jongdae’s yell would've scared all of the seagulls away. As it is, only a middle-aged woman bothers to shush him. He wiggles his eyebrows. “Soooo, dessert?”</p><p>
  <em> “Jongdae.” </em>
</p><p>Jongdae grabs his hands - he would've gone for the face but Kyungsoo dodges - and shakes them gently. “Once. Just for once don't think about the cost okay? You're financially stable.”</p><p>Kyungsoo takes a breath and nods.</p><p>They agree to split a tiramisu, Kyungsoo carving out his portions carefully with the side of his fork and Jongdae playing WW2 pilot. The bitter coffee is more to Jongdae’s taste than his, so it remains untouched when Jongdae leaves for the bathroom.</p><p>Braving a look out into the room, he can see Luna weaving her way through the tables, the restaurant sparser than it was two hours ago. The two older men are gone, their table cleaned, no traces to prove they were ever there. The lighting is dimmer now so Kyungsoo can barely make out the young couple that had intrigued him before, sitting as they are, curled into an embrace on the same side of the booth. He smiles to himself.</p><p>The uplift of a sweet tune draws his attention to the pianist as one song transitions effortlessly into another. The man is tiny, shoulders barely clearing the top of the grand piano, but he's obviously gifted, Kyungsoo doesn't know many people who could play two hours straight without pause.</p><p>Jongdae slides back into his seat with such fervour he bounces off the side of the booth. Mutters and offhand “ouch.”</p><p>Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. “What did you expect to happen?”</p><p>“I don’t know Kyungsoo I just wanted to see you~” Jongdae sings the last word, looking very pleased with himself.</p><p>A piece of paper flutters onto the table. Luna winks before moving onto Baekhyun’s table.</p><p>“A cheque?”</p><p>“Nah.” If Jongdae had looked smug before, now he was a dragon sitting amongst jewels and gold. “Her number.”</p><p>Kyungsoo flicks him in the forehead. “Of course,” is all he says to the other man’s Cheshire grin. “Of fucking course.”</p><p>(But he smiles a second later).</p><p>Jongdae’s attention is diverted again. “-Hey is that dickhead’s date leaving?”</p><p>Bare shoulders covered in a wrap, dark hair sashaying behind her, the tall figure cutting through the room is undoubtedly the woman who'd been at Baekhyun’s table.</p><p>“Yes?” Kyungsoo says, the question tilting the of the word upwards.</p><p>Which means… <em> “Uh, </em>excuse me, Luna?” He calls, half-rising to get her attention, words bitten short in a mix of embarrassment and hurry.</p><p>He coughs when she turns, hand still weakly raised. Sits back down she approaches, trying to fight the squirming of his insides. Kyungsoo had always hated doing that to waitstaff. “Could we please have the cheque?”</p><p>“It's already been paid for,” Luna says gently, bowing, her red-stained lips breaking into a soft smile. “Have a good night gentleman.”</p><p>“Wow,” Jongdae exclaims as she walks away, slumping against the booth seat in a very casual manner; like he'd just been hit over the head with something heavy. <em> “Wow.” </em></p><p>Kyungsoo feels his forehead wrinkle. How, why and when had their meal been paid for?</p><p>“Whoop here flies forth the wicked witch of the west,” Jongdae mutters under his breath when Baekhyun appears at their table, straightening himself and his suit.</p><p>
  <em> Oh. </em>
</p><p>Baekhyun simply quirks an eyebrow.</p><p>Kyungsoo stands - he's needed to go to the bathroom for the past ten minutes and sees no point in delaying the inevitable any longer. Shuffles in place slightly when Baekhyun doesn't immediately move - the man instead fixing Jongdae with a long icy look. “I trust you enjoyed yourself?”</p><p>Kyungsoo had forgotten about the breadstick incident.</p><p>“It was <em> smashing.” </em></p><p>Kyungsoo opens his mouth when Jongdae's grin gets wicked with his overly posh response, and he really doesn't want to stand here while his best friend argues it out with the man he’s <em> trapped with </em>but Baekhyun cuts him off with a simple frosted “splendid.”</p><p>But Jongdae isn't finished, arms hooked over the back of the chair, leg lazily hooked over the other. “Hey, did you two wear matching suits on purpose? It’s <em> cute.” </em></p><p>Kyungsoo goes to open his mouth again to stop the appending fit but Baekhyun is already striding away and so he essentially gets dragged along. He knows he looks disgruntled because Jongdae’s laugh ushering them out.</p><p>Again, it is going to prove exceedingly difficult to get into the car. (Kyungsoo doesn't quite know what face he's making when he makes eye contact with the valet, but the man shoots him an awkward smile).</p><p>But Baekhyun is already rolling his eyes and huffing and following Kyungsoo to the driver’s side and that makes no sense because they can't both drive.</p><p>His eyes focus back in to see Baekhyun open the drivers’ side door and plop himself down.</p><p>He opens his mouth but Baekhyun crawls over the passenger seat. Settles himself down and rearranges his hair and suit which had gotten slightly mussed, only to look back at Kyungsoo with an inquisitive, “what?”</p><p>“Nothing.”</p><p>Kyungsoo eases himself into the car.</p><p>Nothing at all.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>When they arrive back at Kyungsoo’s and after changing for the night - yet another uncomfortable affair - Baekhyun requests to sit in the lounge. Wary of both the politeness and relative ease they just moved around one another, Kyungsoo acquiesces and curls into the corner of the couch.</p><p>The sky went dark long ago, but the glow from the streetlights spilling through the curtains and the lamp beside the couch falls upon Baekhyun's neck like a golden shawl. Knees covered in Kyungsoo's patchwork quilt, his black sleep shirt oversized and well-worn, Baekhyun doesn't look at all like the CEO of a famous fashion magazine.</p><p>It's peaceful. Surprisingly so.</p><p>So when socked feet push - albeit gently - into his thigh, Kyungsoo startles, book pausing open upon his lap.</p><p>The contact wasn't an accident. It was a ploy, obvious when Baekhyun asks, “Are you and Jongdae dating?”</p><p>“No?” Kyungsoo replies, pushing his glasses up. Baekhyun’s words have pulled him to attention. This question tiptoes dangerously on the side of truth. Kyungsoo knows he's not homophobic, but that doesn't explain the sudden line of questioning.</p><p>“You're close.”</p><p>Obviously being baited, with a pointed statement rather than a question, Kyungsoo, known for his candour, doesn't bother to mince his words. “Well, Jongdae was there for me when my parents kicked me out of the house.” He pauses, so briefly that Baekhyun doesn't notice, but his hands still clench on top of his blanketed thigh. “For being gay.”</p><p>Said unapologetically, because he isn't ashamed, Kyungsoo stares at Baekhyun as if daring him to say something, but there's still a small buried part of him that feels ill at the thought of anyone else knowing. Kyungsoo doesn't want to be hated wholeheartedly based on that <em>single </em>facet of him.</p><p>After all that's what happened with his parents.</p><p>Baekhyun doesn't say anything. But his face almost <em>softens</em>. "My first kiss was with a boy," he says then nonchalantly, humming, a finger tapping at his chin, his gaze dropping from the ceiling to meet Kyungsoo's.</p><p>Kyungsoo is lucky he doesn't swallow his tongue.</p><p>But Baekhyun has already moved on. Or back, technically. "How long have you known Jongdae?"</p><p>"Since we were six."</p><p>"Nineteen years," Baekhyun whistles, doing the math quickly. "The closest friend I've had to that length is ten - Chanyeol's an annoyingly loud fucker, but I love him." He sits straight suddenly, disrupting the blanket. "So I'm eating alone in the high-school cafeteria right? This tall lanky fucker plops down next to me with no warning and tells me that we're friends now around a mouthful of food, grinning like a loon all the while. And I haven't been able to rid of him since."</p><p>The last part is said with fondness.</p><p>Kyungsoo knows his eyes are wide. <em> What the ever-loving fuck just happened? Who is this person sitting beside him? </em>Because Byun Baekhyun has just changed into another person in front of his eyes.</p><p>As if to prove a point, Baekhyun yawns wide enough to show his teeth and tongue, not bothering to cover his mouth even as his eyes squeeze shut.</p><p>Kyungsoo stares.</p><p>Baekhyun’s hands start playing with the fabric of the quilt, smoothing the pattern under his hands.</p><p>(The specific square his fingers are tracing depicts a camp scene, a hammock swinging between two poplar trees beside a simple campfire. Jongdae's mother had made it for him - had been making it apparently since his twelfth birthday - and it had been a gift for his 21st. A memory sewn into every square, it is the only thing Kyungsoo, a pragmatist, would bother to save in a fire).</p><p>With a little <em> “humph,” </em>Baekhyun turns to Kyungsoo. He offers a small smile. “I'm uh, the owner of a company so I really need to go into work tomorrow. Is that possible?”</p><p><em> Understatement, </em>Kyungsoo thinks, of the photo of the magazine cover Jongdae had sent him, Baekhyun made up and daunting in a black pinstripe suit. The niceties suddenly make sense.  “I'll ask for the day off tomorrow.”</p><p>“We’d have to leave early and it's gonna be a long day,” Baekhyun says quickly, almost like ripping off a Band-Aid and is it just Kyungsoo or does he look worried?</p><p>Missing two full days of work is hard enough <em>without </em>being the CEO of a company.</p><p>Kyungsoo shrugs. “I have a lot of leave.”</p><p>Baekhyun's waits until Kyungsoo is looking at him before nodding. His relief is palatable. “Thank you.”</p><p>Kyungsoo can't decide what to say in the gravity, so he doesn't.</p><p>They brush their teeth almost beside one another. Not as far apart as they could be but enough to carefully avoid touching. It’s still unbelievably awkward, both sets of eyes firmly on ceramic or phone screen, but less painful with the lack of hostility.</p><p>And lying in the dark, Kyungsoo can't be entirely sure through a sharp intake of breath, and he could very well be mistaken, but Baekhyun mumbles something that almost sounds like “goodnight.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>anyone: shows the slightest hint of negative emotion</p><p>jongdae: *friend senses tingling from 10km away* prepare to be adored within an inch of your life</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>enjoy my lovelies!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Morning brings them into the other side of the city. </p><p>Kyungsoo stares up at the hulking skyscrapers through sleep-bleary eyes. He’d been shocked when the alarm went off at five-thirty and although he doesn't look like a zombie, he definitely feels like one. (On the other hand, Baekhyun looks almost excited, holding a leather sleeve that he'd pulled from the bag in the corner of Kyungsoo’s room, slim fingers curled around a takeaway cup of coffee). </p><p>They come to a building at least six stories high, made from spotless floor-to-ceiling windows. Adorning the walkway they turn down are the letters ‘CBX’ in gleaming white. The walkway leads them straight to an elevator, a high-end coffee shop beside it.</p><p>Held behind his back, Kyungsoo’s fingers twist and fiddle. It's the only slip that betrays his neutrality, a habit he could never quite rid himself of. </p><p>Baekhyun’s bounce in his step, on the other hand, increases, like just being here is somehow the key to the shackles of his sourness. Once they exit the elevator, he strides straight towards the front desk to start a conversation with the man there. </p><p>Standing as far back as the anchor allows, Kyungsoo can't hear what they're saying but Baekhyun is obviously comfortable, leaning up onto his tiptoes with his chest pressed against the wood, dress pants curved to his legs.  </p><p>Whatever the man says makes Baekhyun laugh, a genuine carefree bark. When he turns back to Kyungsoo his smile doesn't even fade. “Come on.”</p><p>As they pass, the receptionist’s eyes flick to Kyungsoo, his gaze inquisitive, head tilted just so. Non-judgmental but intimidating. As are the tall, broad shoulders squeezed into a pitch-black suit jacket and the earpiece wire climbing from his shirt collar to his ear. Then the man grins. Winks lavishly at Kyungsoo before turning attention back to his computer. </p><p>Baekhyun ushers him through the double set of sleek black-metal doors leaving Kyungsoo no time to be embarrassed or confused. Kyungsoo follows into another elevator that opens on the third floor, right into the middle of all the action.</p><p>They're intercepted by a man with black curls and large cat-eyes. “Next time let me know before you take an absence for <em> two days,” </em>he hisses. “You're lucky the boss chair is comfortable, or I swear Byun Baekhyun…” he trails off menacingly, poking Baekhyun in the chest.</p><p>“Minseok,” Baekhyun greets amiably. “It's nice to see you too.”</p><p>The other man looks him up and down before breaking into a reluctant smile. It’s close-lipped but it changes his face from fierce into something almost <em> cute. </em>It’s startling.</p><p>"Kyungsoo, this is Minseok,” Baekhyun says airily, leaving them to shake hands. Minseok’s small hand is incredibly firm. “Minseok, Kyungsoo. Minseok is my assistant, but he runs this place better than I do.”</p><p>Minseok rolls his eyes. The arms that come to fold across his chest are very muscular. “I deal majorly with babysitting this one - who spends the majority of the time in his office. Sometimes I actually have to shove him out the door so he doesn't sleep here.”</p><p>Kyungsoo smiles back in faux confidence, relieved when Baekhyun and Minseok start discussing something between themselves. He feels as if he’s just found himself in an alternate universe. Incredibly unbalanced.</p><p>When Minseok leaves, abruptly, to deal with rising voices in the corner of the room, Kyungsoo finally turns to Baekhyun and levels him with a look.</p><p>Baekhyun shrugs. Sighs when he looks around the room to see all the eyes on them. “Let's go to my office.”</p><p>They enter a room that is surprisingly modest. It's wide, sure, but not excessive, and nicely decorated. A big desk made of a light-coloured wood fills most of the semi-cluttered space, a computer balanced on it slightly off to the left and a CEO plaque on the right. The back wall is a massive window. A magazine, the first Kyungsoo assumes, is framed and hung on the left wall.</p><p>Baekhyun breaks the silence with words that are almost tentative. “Surprised?” </p><p>“No,” Kyungsoo says honestly without turning, eyes running over the spines of the magazines in the bookshelf beside the window. It comes out gentler than he meant it to. “Jongdae told me.”</p><p>There is a whistling noise and a sound like Baekhyun clicking away at his keyboard. </p><p>Kyungsoo ignores it, moving to stand in front of the window, feeling a slight tug at his foot.</p><p>He stares down into the bustling city below. The view is eerily similar to his work view.</p><p>“Assistant CEO.”</p><p>“Pardon?” Kyungsoo says, caught off-guard, turning to see Baekhyun watching him from the black wingback chair behind the desk. </p><p>“Minseok is the assistant CEO,” Baekhyun explains. “I introduced him as my assistant to annoy him. He liked you,” he adds onto the end, shrugging, having already turned back to the colour-coded calendar on his screen.</p><p>Kyungsoo doesn’t ask. Baekhyun would know Minseok better than he would, even if their interaction barely lasted a minute. He lets his eyes flick around, gaze catching on the oversized analog clock above the room’s entrance. </p><p>Baekhyun curses. Colourfully. </p><p>When Kyungsoo turns, his face is buried in his hands on his desk. </p><p>With a deep sigh, Baekhyun emerges, frowning, and runs an aggressive hand through his hair before pinching the bridge of his nose.</p><p>The magazine Kyungsoo is holding stills in his hand, the half-opened page flopping back down. The changes this man keeps throwing at him somehow always catch him off-guard.</p><p>Baekhyun spins in his chair. “Unfortunately, the board wants me in for a ‘few’ meetings. They start in ten.”</p><p>“Meetings?” Kyungsoo ventures.</p><p>“Plural. Yes,” Baekhyun smiles, strained. He stands, folding his coat over his arm. “Welcome to corporate life. And make sure you don’t need to use the bathroom for a while.”</p><p>True to Baekhyun’s word, meeting after meeting follow. </p><p>Baekhyun answers the questions regarding Kyungsoo with a wave of his hand and a terse “he's my associate. I'm allowed to have those as far as I was aware? You're welcome to enquire more of course, unless you would like to actually get on with what we're meant to be discussing?”</p><p>Kyungsoo sees Minseok turn to the window to hide the upturn of his mouth.</p><p>Although Kyungsoo loses interest - he doesn't understand much of what these people are talking about - he can't deny Baekhyun in his element is incredibly intriguing to watch. It was so easy to dismiss him as vapid and shallow, an airhead with cruelty, but there's an incredible sharpness to him. A perceptiveness in the way he talks to these people, worming his way into the front of their thoughts. </p><p>“You should really stop making yourself smaller than you are,” Baekhyun comments as they're leaving the third office, casually, as if he hadn’t just managed to analyse Kyungsoo from one of the few glances he’d spared him in their entire meeting schedule. </p><p>Struck dumb, Kyungsoo follows in silence.</p><p>The abundance of meetings finishes at eleven. <em> Four hours worth.  </em></p><p>Eyes pinched, Minseok leaves them with an, “I'm going to get lunch.”</p><p>With a groan Baekhyun stretches, cracks and pops rippling down his back. He shuts his yawn with a snap. “Thank god that's over. The worst part of owning a company I tell you.”</p><p>Several suited men, obviously their elders in hair and skin, walk past with disapproving frowns. One shakes his head. </p><p>Baekhyun pulls a face at their backs.</p><p>“What's with them? Your presentations were good,” Kyungsoo says. It's true.</p><p>Still looking at the floor, fists uncurling, Baekhyun sighs. “Most are of the opinion that I am too young to have my own business. That my designs are too ‘feminine’ and ‘queer’ and that I'm not playing enough into the ‘normal population.’” He snorts, but the words sound weary and trodden, like a battle he’s fought many times before. “Fuck them though. I'll make what I want to make.”</p><p>Their shoulders brush as they walk through a corridor that’s all gleaming white with large windows and a plush cobalt carpet. His words settle warm into Kyungsoo’s chest.</p><p>Kyungsoo’s eyes widen, clipboard clutched to his torso. <em> Oh shit. </em></p><p>Baekhyun starts to speak. “Since I have two hours - “</p><p>But Kyungsoo’s ankle, which had gone to sleep two hours ago and had been prickly hot ever since he stood up, collapses on him. </p><p>Arms shoot out to steady him. “You alright?” Baekhyun asks, genuinely despite the death grip on Kyungsoo's biceps, a lock of hair curling boyishly onto his forehead. </p><p>When he nods, the hands retract.</p><p>
  <em> Fuck. </em>
</p><p>“What I was trying to say before you tried to take a nosedive, was that since I have roughly two and a half hours of office work, we can go get lunch at twelve-thirty?”</p><p>“Okay,” is all he says. Inwardly, Kyungsoo winces at how deep his voice comes out.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>Jongdae | 11:07 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> oh you sad sad boy </em>
</p><p>
  <em> you’re starting to enjoy his company  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Kyungsoo frowns at his phone, at Jongdae’s reply, body now firmly tucked into the second seat in Baekhyun’s office that had been brought in for him. The leather of it is much more comfortable than the rigid meeting-room chairs.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Kyungsoo | 11:09 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I hate you </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Jongdae | 11:12 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> also u didn’t show up to work  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> you're officially not invited to my birthday party anymore  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> you're gonna miss out  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> the theme this year is pirates </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Kyungsoo snorts.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Jongdae | 11:17 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Sorry Soo, I've got to go  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> some of us have to actually do their jobs  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Kyungsoo can't stop the sharp laugh that escapes at that. </p><p>For a second the tapping at the keyboard pauses. It resumes not long after, with an added humming to accompany the song playing quietly from the radio.</p><p>But an hour and a half is a long time to occupy oneself with nothing to do, and by the time Baekhyun calls for lunch, Kyungsoo’s nails have all been chewed off, an abandoned but open magazine on the desk in front of him.</p><p>It’s a short distance to the high-end coffee shop Kyungsoo had noticed earlier, and the walk down is pleasant, Kyungsoo allowed to remain in a companionable silence while Baekhyun directs the conversation. In only five minutes Baekhyun manages to cover several topics including an imitation of one of the members on the boards, the weather, and an explanation of the woman the receptionist had been occupied with on their way past.</p><p>He even proves to still be paying attention to his surroundings when a group of businesswomen walk past, pulling Kyungsoo in by his arm until they are shoulder-to-shoulder. “You didn’t forget about what happened with that doctor did you</p><p>Kyungsoo stares at Baekhyun’s jaw and is embarrassed to realise that he did forget. Didn’t want to sucker-punch anyone with a burst of magic to the stomach.</p><p>“Baekhyun-ah, how nice of you to grace us with your presence,” is the greeting they get when they walk through the tall glass doors.</p><p>Kyungsoo, who takes the time to gently help the door close, turns back to a tall woman in an apron and billowy denim-like blouse. </p><p>She smiles at him. (Despite the warmth in the slight wrinkles around her temples, Kyungsoo is admittedly still wary). “I assume the reason why I haven’t seen you in a few days is in front of me.” She wipes her hand on her apron before extending it to Kyungsoo. “Victoria.”</p><p>He takes it somewhat dazedly. “Kyungsoo.”</p><p>Seemingly satisfied with that, and the small smile he offers, Victoria waves them on. “Pick a table and come order when you are ready.”</p><p>“Where do you want to sit?” Baekhyun asks once Kyungsoo has grabbed two menus, pretending as if Victoria hadn’t just pinched his cheeks as she left.</p><p>Kyungsoo leads them to a table in the back of the cafe that is pressed to the wall of glass, showcasing the outdoor seating. He takes the furthest seat from the door, more so that Baekhyun doesn’t have to hide his face from those who might recognise him outside of CBX rather than to get the booth side.</p><p>As he first thought, the cafe is high-end, tall ceilings and metres of glass and a flowering garden of purple, yellow and red. It’s also homely, Pinterest-inspired with wrought-iron displays, blackboards with neat coloured writing, and quaint wooden boxes on top of the tables.</p><p>Baekhyun fiddled with the centre-piece before dumping the entirety of non-breakable contents onto the table. He begins straightening the sauce bottles and colour-coding the salt and pepper sachets before he looks up. “What?”</p><p>“Nothing,” Kyungsoo says to Baekhyun’s upturned eyes, burying his smile under the menu spread in front of him. </p><p>After a pause, the long slender fingers continue to play with the centrepiece.</p><p>They are both ready to order in a few minutes, Kyungsoo because he isn’t indecisive, Baekhyun most likely because he has been here more than a few times. </p><p>Manning the cash register now is a younger man with one piercing in one ear, three in the other, and fluffy pink hair. Under his puffy under-eyes, his nametag is pinned on straight and uniform tidy. ‘Joshua’ greets them warmly and takes their orders, calling out to another worker in English.</p><p>They retreat back to their table, Kyungsoo with a water pitcher and Baekhyun with a cheeky grin. (Kyungsoo assumes the paper square Baekhyun had slid over the counter was his business card as Victoria had uncannily popped her head out from the kitchen to yell at Baekhyun to stop stealing her staff).</p><p>“Tell me something about yourself,” Baekhyun says after their food arrives, cutting into his salad, reclined in his seat with his foot pressed to the edge of Kyungsoo’s chair.</p><p>Kyungsoo panics. Tries not to blink wide-eyes up at Baekhyun at the unexpected question. (Because while Baekhyun is infinitely interesting and can talk about himself to the cows come home - it’s how Kyungsoo learned his favourite colour, food and song today - he can not).</p><p>“Ugh,” Baekhyun says, with a cheekful of food, and his fork held between two fingers. He hums. “Tell me about how you and Jongdae met then.”</p><p>“That was a long time ago,” Kyungsoo points out. But he lays his cutlery on his plate. “We were six, and he was the only one who stood up for me when two boys stole my book and glasses. He didn’t even notice he’d lost a tooth in the process, too busy telling me that my ‘owl eyes were soooo cool.’ We’ve been friends ever since.”</p><p>Baekhyun’s eyes smile at him from over the edge of his glass. When he puts it down, he dabs at the water dotting his mouth with a finger. “Sounds like Chanyeol and I. Or how I became friends with Minseok. Did I tell you how we met?”</p><p>Kyungsoo shakes his head.</p><p>“He was in one of my college classes. After seeing his work on the first presentation, I knew I wanted him to be my partner for the final project. So, I annoyed him until he couldn’t deny we were friends anymore,” Baekhyun says, seeming to drink in the fact he made Kyungsoo chuckle, a finger tracing the rim of his glass. </p><p>“Minseok doesn’t seem the type to allow someone to annoy him.”</p><p>Baekhyun chuckles. “No. I got told to leave him alone enough times before I realised that it was much more sensible to approach him in a quieter setting. Minseok has quite a low tolerance for people that try and complicate things.”</p><p>“Hmm,” is all Kyungsoo replies with, before hastily having enough mouthful of food. </p><p>The corner of Baekhyun’s mouth ticks up before settling. Baekhyun holds Kyungsoo’s eyes for a beat, before flicking down to check his watch. “If you’re finished with your food, we should head back up. I have to assist at a photo shoot.”</p><p>“I’m finished,” Kyungsoo says. A quarter of Baekhyun’s plate is still full but he makes no move to finish it.</p><p>“Perfect. Let’s get going then.”</p><p>Victoria, somehow knowing they were leaving, is back at the cash register. The black hair that had been bouncing around her shoulders is now tied back into a sagging ponytail. She has flour on her face and neck.</p><p>Baekhyun leans his elbow on the counter next to a glass jar of cookies as she rings up their total. “When are you going to model for me again Victoria?”</p><p>Apparently unaffected by Baekhyun’s big eyes and smile, the woman scoffs. Gestures at the EFTPOS machine - and Baekhyun. “Don’t know how your magazine is ever going to flourish if you keep hiring ancient models.”</p><p>“That’s the biggest load of shit I’ve ever heard Victoria,” Baekhyun says pleasantly, pushing his pin numbers in with more force than necessary. “You’re only <em> 30-something </em> and the issue you were in was in the top five of my <em> best selling.” </em></p><p>Victoria hands over the receipt with a brown paper bag underneath. </p><p>Baekhyun takes it gently. “I’ll give you free creative control if you come back. Just think about it.” </p><p>With one last smile, Baekhyun swans away. Before the tug turns to pain and he gets pulled along, Kyungsoo smiles at a now pensive-looking Victoria. “It was nice to meet you.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>One-fifteen brings them to a studio room barely a block away from the main building. It’s a loft, long, half of the room with a floor-to-ceiling view of the city, the other a slow crawl into semi-darkness which is impressive considering it is the middle of the day. In the semi-darkness, several light stands are set up but aren’t on, three at the base of a raised platform, two where he assumes the photographer will stand.</p><p>“Minseok sent instructions,” Baekhyun says, and the room doesn’t echo, but Kyungsoo startles anyway because he thought they were alone.</p><p>A shadow unravels itself from the dark and assembles into a lanky boy with an elfin-shaped face and slightly pointed ears. “Oh goody.”</p><p>“Brat,” Baekhyun says in response to the sarcasm, but there’s a fondness there.</p><p>The boy takes the papers and, despite his earlier lack of excitement, rifles through them thoroughly. With a nod, he goes over to a rack Kyungsoo hasn’t noticed, to sticky-note several of the hanging black bags.</p><p>“You’re welcome!” Baekhyun calls, grinning widely at the boy waving him off, his earphone cord bouncing against his chest. He grins wider at the muttered <em> thanks </em> he gets a beat later, before turning to Kyungsoo. “Don’t mind Minghao, he’s just a big grump.”</p><p>Kyungsoo feels like he’s missing something with Baekhyun’s hands in his pockets and the ease in which he has around this <em> kid </em>being in his studio. “Minghao is your?”</p><p>“Photographer.”</p><p>“How old is he?”</p><p>“Nineteen. Why pay a grumpy old person to do the job when I can hire a grumpy young person instead?” Baekhyun’s jovialness fades with one quick look at Kyungsoo, and his eyes turn to watch Minghao fiddling with the camera settings. He sighs. “Look. I’m not a bleeding heart or anything but the kid is talented and I know that in this line of work if I didn’t hire him it might be years before he got a job. If ever.” Baekhyun shrugs. “Companies want experience but how can people get it if they aren’t being hired for a lack of experience?”</p><p>Before Kyungsoo can think of a reply he wouldn’t voice anyway, Baekhyun snaps into motion again. Not long after, the models arrive and for the next hour and a half, Baekhyun is everywhere. Repositioning the models, adding props, retrieving outfit pieces. </p><p>Kyungsoo sticks perhaps closer than he needs to, watching over Baekhyun’s shoulder as the other man asks one of the models to tilt his hand a fraction to the left. It makes no visible difference to Kyungsoo it does to Baekhyun, who nods in satisfaction. He’s fascinated by Baekhyun’s attention to detail.</p><p>“We should do an outside shoot,” Minghao says off-handed, during a costume change.</p><p>The photographer is Chinese, Kyungsoo knows now, from a slip-up earlier when talking to the darker-skinned of the two models, one that had the youth’s forehead bunching as he tried to mentally translate his words.</p><p>“Find a place and I’ll see what I can do,” Baekhyun replies, attention already back to his phone as he taps away furiously.</p><p>Kyungsoo doesn’t miss the smile that stretches across Minghao’s face. He knows Baekhyun sees it too.</p><p>By the time they leave the studio, it’s three hours closer to night. </p><p>Kyungsoo is sore. He didn’t do much but stand and watch, but it has been a long day with nothing to do. Still, some part of him is relaxed. When he speaks to the late afternoon sky it is from curiosity rather than impatience. “How long?”</p><p>“Left? Four hours.”</p><p>“You work twelve hours days often?”</p><p>“Yes. Monday to Friday, ten on Saturdays. Most of the time though I work longer, or come in on Sundays. Designing and running the magazine is almost more than I can keep up with sometimes.” Baekhyun laughs, ruffling the back of his hair but it’s sharp-edged and his eyes are on the ground.</p><p>Kyungsoo has seen the bags under his eyes. Just how stretched thin is he?</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>When they return, Baekhyun is immediately everywhere again, in his office one minute, conferring with Minseok over fabric types the next.</p><p>Kyungsoo follows, has no choice but to, holding a ledger Baekhyun asked him to, jotting down occasions reminders. The hours blend into one another.</p><p>To any of his workers, it would seem Baekhyun has almost boundless energy, but now that Kyungsoo is looking for it, it’s impossible to miss the exhaustion. Especially when the man goes to stand up from a crouch only to stagger backwards.</p><p>Kyungsoo drops the hand that steadied Baekhyun almost as soon as he’d put it up.</p><p>“Thanks.”</p><p>Kyungsoo nods. When he looks up, Minseok’s eyes meet his. With a slow blink, the assistant CEO turns away, but not before Kyungsoo understands that Minseok had been watching him. Why?</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>They finish at eight, but they don’t leave the building until eight-thirty.</p><p>It’s dark. There are hardly any cars on the street but a fair amount of foot traffic, dressed up and talking in myriads of groups, finished with work for the day, their smiles highlighted by the streetlights. </p><p>Baekhyun and Kyungsoo weave between the people. They almost get separated at one point by a group of laughing teenagers but Baekhyun’s hand closes around his sleeve.</p><p>“Sorry.” Baekhyun yawns when he lets Kyungsoo go. “I have to stop at my place to grab my laptop. It’s not far and we can double back to your car in less than twenty.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>The building they stop in front of isn’t particularly tall opposed to the skyscrapers around them, but the glass seems to shine even under the darkness, and every balcony is adorned with gorgeous flowers that even a minimalistic like Kyungsoo could appreciate.</p><p>Still. He huffs. “You live in the penthouse right?”</p><p>Baekhyun seems to find his monotone funny at least, the corner of his mouth quirking. “Not quite.”</p><p>Baekhyun opens the door to a room on the second-to-top floor, into an open kitchen and living area that is bigger than Kyungsoo’s house alone. From the countertop to the couches everything is a shade of gleaming white. The furniture is minimal, aside from the countertop with the ivory stools there is only the gigantic flat screen hung on the wall, and a single, long, chaise lounge. Two-thirds of the room are floor-to-ceiling windows with an unbroken view of the city and its thousands of multi-coloured lights. Lavish.</p><p>There’s little doubt that this apartment costs more than Kyungsoo would ever make in his life. He’s not ashamed, he’s never had illusions of grandeur and he worked hard to get where he is. But it is humbling.</p><p>“What do you think?” Baekhyun looks curious. Expectant.</p><p>“It’s rather blinding,” Kyungsoo says. He’s sure the house is magnificent but the all-white theme overall is rather startling.</p><p>Baekhyun laughs. He looks around with a scrunched nose. “You’re not wrong. I’m not fond of it myself, but the designer only asked for a two-page spread as payment.” He shrugs. “I stay with Chanyeol most of the time anyway.”</p><p>The bedroom is much the same, big and white, but at least has accents of black. The size of the bed does have Kyungsoo feeling a little envious.</p><p>“Nice right?”</p><p>The tilt of Baekhyun’s mouth has Kyungsoo looking away.</p><p>“Okay close your eyes.”</p><p>“Excuse me?”</p><p>Baekhyun sighs. “My laptop is hidden. I don’t want anyone to know where it is. I’d ask you to leave, but I don’t know if you’ve noticed that we are kind of stuck together.”</p><p>Kyungsoo complies, but not before sighing.</p><p>Baekhyun’s chuckle sounds lower in the dark. As does the quiet “thank you.” </p><p>It feels ridiculous standing in the middle of the room with his eyes closed and the lights on. It feels more ridiculous stumbling into the corner of the bed when the cord pulls his knee towards Baekhyun.</p><p>Baekhyun sniggers. It may be at Kyungsoo’s expense but it’s genuine. “My bad.”</p><p>Kyungsoo is sure his ears are red. “Shut up.”</p><p>Once the laptop has been retrieved and Kyungsoo allowed to open his eyes, Baekhyun heads towards his wardrobe. The amount of clothes spilling out of the already oversized room is frankly alarming but Baekhyun seems to know what he’s looking for, clicking through a row of jackets on hangers. For what, Kyungsoo doesn’t know, until Baekhyun very purposefully looks him up and down. </p><p>“Your jacket makes you look like a caterpillar. The hungry one. Take this instead.”</p><p>A camouflage-patterned jacket hits Kyungsoo in the face. Kyungsoo glares but shucks his other one off, and shrugs the offered one on.</p><p>With a tilted head, Baekhyun looks him up and down. A second later he’s all up in Kyungsoo’s space, fingers combing through his hair. “If you wore it like this more often...” Baekhyun mutters, pulling Kyungsoo’s fringe up and off his face.</p><p>Kyungsoo grabs his wrist, stopping Baekhyun’s movements short, thin bones moving beneath his hand. His grip is gentle, his voice flat but not aiming to be unkind. “What are you doing?” Baekhyun may be used to people being in his personal bubble but he’s not.</p><p>Baekhyun steps back smoothly. There had been a brief flash of surprise, but his eyes are blank again. “Keep the jacket. It suits you.”</p><p>Whatever weird tension arose in the apartment, it decreases outside. The temperature has also dropped several degrees, enough to make exhales of air turn to white wisps. Kyungsoo is grateful for the warmth of the new jacket but still holds his old one under his arm. Baekhyun had made an offhand comment about throwing it in the trash where it belongs but Kyungsoo is not wasteful.</p><p>Beside him, Baekhyun is running an aimless commentary. His teeth begin to chatter. The cold must be cutting through his silk work-shirt like paper.</p><p>
  <em> Stupid.  </em>
</p><p>Sticking his arm out flat in front of Baekhyun, Kyungsoo pins the jacket to the man’s chest, fixing him with a blank look when he looks about to refuse.</p><p>Baekhyun shrugs the offered jacket on.</p><p>“Who’s the caterpillar now?” Kyungsoo says, just before Baekhyun slides into the passenger seat. </p><p>Baekhyun’s hands are hidden under the puffy sleeves, the whole thing making him look like a very round snowman. He looks up in surprise. Then he settles. “Has anyone ever told you that you have an odd sense of humour?”</p><p>Kyungsoo’s mouth quirks. “Yes.”</p><p>Baekhyun’s returning laugh is loud and sharp.</p><p>The car ride blurs until it feels like in no time at all they’re back at Kyungsoo’s house. Kyungsoo is handed Baekhyun’s laptop as he shuffles over the driver’s seat to get out and Kyungsoo holds it gently to his chest.</p><p>Neither of them can be bothered cooking - though Baekhyun admits that he only can really do the basics - so they decide to have leftovers from the other night. Baekhyun offers to buy lunch tomorrow, his cheek bulging on one side like a lopsided hamster. </p><p>They brush their teeth side-by-side in a somewhat comfortable silence and Kyungsoo rolls his eyes at Baekhyun when he pulls a face at him in the mirror.</p><p>Baekhyun directs them to the bed and Kyungsoo sets his glasses on the bedside cabinet after he lies back, trying to act as if nothing has changed. “Do you always make weird noises and wriggle about when you sleep?”</p><p>Baekhyun laughs, explaining that he does and that Chanyeol is the only one that can handle his restless sleeping habits, “but that’s because he’s a giant cuddly octopus.”</p><p>Kyungsoo hums, his arm tucked under his head as he looks up at the blurred ceiling.</p><p>Baekhyun stops in the middle of his fifth story, hands stilling, and peers over the edge of the bed at him, borrowed shirt sagging at the neck to reveal a triangle of skin.</p><p>“Yes?” Kyungsoo prompts after Baekhyun doesn’t say anything. </p><p>“Just making sure you were still awake,” He replies, voice lilting softly like a question. Almost.</p><p>“I am. You were talking about the magazine market and how most just try to do things that’ll make them famous-what?” Kyungsoo asks, cutting himself off when Baekhyun’s mouth curves into a smile. He’s close enough to see that it’s small but genuine and it makes Kyungsoo blink rapidly, vulnerable without his glasses.</p><p>“Nothing. Do you always look like you’re glaring into space?”</p><p>That steals a chuckle from Kyungsoo. “Unfortunately. I have terrible eyesight and when I squint it looks like I’m glaring. I got in trouble several times before I started wearing glasses permanently.”</p><p>Baekhyun nods along to Kyungsoo’s words, black hair fluffy and rumpled from when he rolled over on the bed. “Have you tried contacts?”</p><p>“They irritate my eyes too much.”</p><p>Baekhyun’s reply is a massive yawn that he doesn’t bother to cover before he drops the elbow holding himself up to fall into the pillow. “What time are we starting tomorrow?”</p><p>“Seven.”</p><p>“Oh goody,” Baekhyun says. Flops onto his back to rub rough knuckles across his eyes. “You ready for me to turn the lights off?”</p><p>“Yes,” Kyungsoo replies and blinks as the room goes dark.</p><p>He heard shuffling as Baekhyun rolls around to get comfortable. The rustling continues for another minute before a murmured, “goodnight.”</p><p>“Goodnight,” Kyungsoo says, pulling the blanket up to his chest. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>*me at 12am realising it’s Sunday* hold my milk tea</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“1.73 metres,” Jongdae announces cheerfully. “Not really a satisfying measurement is it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You done?” Kyungsoo asks when Jongdae finally steps away. His chest pulls from standing as far from Baekhyun as the bond allows. “It’s too early for this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Agreed,” Baekhyun says, pinched eyes peering out from a hood. He’s leaning against Kyungsoo’s cubicle wall but is staring at his half-opened laptop. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d been surprisingly willing to go along with Jongdae’s measuring scheme initially, but his burst of energy had dimmed somewhat. The bruises under his eyes faded but still deep.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Back to work then I guess. What a boring lot,” Jongdae sniffs, shutting the tape measure with a snap and tossing it at Kyungsoo’s chair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pauses to raise his eyebrows at Kyungsoo before leaving, muttering dramatically about betrayers and blood-sucking bewitchers in the five-step walk to his own desk.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kyungsoo throws a paperclip at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Baekhyun laughs, cackles really, when it hits the mark. Only getting louder when Jongdae pulls two fingers at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With their source of distraction gone, both Baekhyun and Kyungsoo take their seats. His phone vibrates from his suit pocket.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Jongdae | 07:47</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>what did u do to Baekhyun bc I could swear I heard him laugh </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>are you fuckin gazpacho or something ??</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>turning him into a real boy</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Kyungsoo | 07:49</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I assume you mean Geppetto?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Jongdae | 07:50</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>potato potato</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>geppetto gazpacho </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Kyungsoo | 07:52</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Go do your work dumbass.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Placing his phone face down on the table, Kyungsoo looks to Baekhyun but he’s absorbed in his work, hunched over his laptop. Without distraction, Kyungsoo falls easily back into his work. The clicking of keyboards and murmurs around the office somewhat fade into the background as Kyungsoo fixes the errors in the twenty-page document. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Only when the corrected file is being emailed to Joohyun does he sit back, taking a drink from his water bottle. Kyungsoo rocks in his seat to check on Baekhyun.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His hood has fallen back, sleeves pushed to his elbows, fingers flying over the keys. His laptop screen is dark from Kyungsoo’s angle but Baekhyun looks like he’s mouthing the words he’s reading. Baekhyun pauses, frowning, before scribbling something on the paper beside him. Slim-boned fingers tap across the paper a few times before running across the arm of his gold-rimmed glasses. Blue light, as he’d explained yesterday, to stop the headaches. Most of them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kyungsoo turns back to his computer. Pulls off his own glasses to clean the smudges. Then, with a sigh, picks up his office phone from the cradle and dials the first number from his list.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Forty minutes and ten phone calls later, he hangs the phone up on his last call of the morning, blowing a deep breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your last call sounded interesting.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kyungsoo puffs out another breath, sure his ears are red. “Yeah, an older woman. Kept saying she liked how deep my voice was,” he says with a strained laugh, watching his hands trace the outline of his keyboard. It had made keeping the call on track very difficult. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Baekhyun whistles. “Pulling all the cougars with your sexy voice. With those big doe eyes I bet all the grandmas love you too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kyungsoo chokes on a laugh, unsure on how to respond. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Luckily Junmyeon enters the office with his son in tow. Loudly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His phone buzzes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Jongdae | 09:54</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>this outta be good</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>ten bucks says Tao’s after the car</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Kyungsoo doesn’t reply. He’s not a betting man. (It’s a foolish bet to take anyway).</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The discussion Junmyeon and Tao seem to be having continues across the bullpen until they’re almost at Kyungsoo’s desk.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Daddd,” Tao whines, trailing behind his father, made only more comical for the fact Tao has a good four inches on Junmyeon. “Can I pretty please borrow one of the cars tonight?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And why would you need to Tao?” Junmyeon asks, flicking through the papers in his hand and passing one to Kyungsoo with a smile as he walks by.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want to go to the mall after wushu training with some friends,” Tao says, pleading at odds with dark under eyes, multiple piercings and distressed clothes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anyone who knew the 17-year-old knew his appearance did not match his personality. Tao may look like he could kick someone’s ass to kingdom come (and could actually) but the boy spooked easily and had a soft heart.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, take the Porsche,” Junmyeon acquises, a bleeding heart for anything resembling puppy dog eyes. “But I want you home by 9pm okay?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes yes </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Tao cries. “I promise!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Jongdae | 10:01</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>not the porscheeeeeee</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t forget time do your washing before practice,” Junmyeon warns, sliver of steel under a bed of roses. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you Dad I will,” Tao exclaims in a mumbled rush, darting back to wrap Junmyeon in a hug. Then looks at the chunky watch on his wrist, swears, and sprints across the room to the elevators.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t forget to hang up the underwear I washed for you!” Junmyeon calls across the office which had gone quiet just for this it seems, eyes twinkling. “Love you!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ughhh,” Tao groans, practically throwing himself into the elevator when the doors open.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When the doors close, Junmyeon turns, fixes them all with a look and a self-satisfied nod then walks away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kyungsoo huffs. Makes eye contact with a very confused Baekhyun.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Does this shit happen often?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“More than it should, less than you’re thinking,” Kyungsoo says into his hands, and tentatively adds, “it’s always worse the week after the solstice. From the lingering chaos magic.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>And Jongdae.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They haven’t spoken of the solstice since the first night. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Makes sense,” is all Baekhyun says however. He looks back to his screen and taps something into his laptop. “Any chance we could leave a bit early? Minseok sounds like he’s about to kill someone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s 10:15 and last night they’d agreed staying until 11:30. Kyungsoo’s schedule isn’t that full. He also has plenty of leave left</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think they can manage without me,” he replies, mouth quirking, pointing over the wall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Baekhyun stands to follow his gaze and snorts. “Is he asleep?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Most likely,” Kyungsoo says, logging off and placing several of his papers in his briefcase. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On their way out, he smacks Jongdae upside the head in a friendly farewell and tells him to wake Yixing up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His phone buzzes while he’s driving to CBX.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Would you mind?” Kyungsoo says, unbothered, before his mind catches up with what he’s just said.</span>
</p>
<p>(Kyungsoo has nothing to hide but he is an insanely private person, Jongdae discluded. Not that he counts anyway, he’s family).</p>
<p>
  <span>But seeing Baekhyun’s hands pick his phone up from its spot in the ashtray doesn’t inspire panic. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s from Jong-bae,” Baekhyun reads out slowly, carefully, testing the water or sounding out the contact name which Jongdae had set his contact to months ago and Kyungsoo never got around to fixing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kyungsoo pulls into the lane Baekhyun points to. “What’s it say?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s your password - wait why do you have no password what’s wrong with you?” Baekhyun mutters before pulling up the text.“It’s a reminder to not conveniently forget about the work drinks tomorrow night. Conveniently forget?” He repeats after reading it out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve missed the last two,” Kyungsoo says, pulling into the carpark building.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ahh.” Baekhyun says somewhat knowingly. “Top floor, park in the CEO park, I've already notified the guard.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kyungsoo threads carefully through the tall carpark. Baekhyun’s eyes are burning into the side of his face. “What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re not overly fond of group hangouts are you?” Baekhyun says too thoughtfully for someone who has just wrestled out of a hoodie and had his feet kicked up onto Kyungsoo’s dash. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I like people. I don’t like complication. Or noise.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s the fun of it!” Baekhyun announces as Kyungsoo parks the car, getting out before he can even say anything, drumming his fingers along the roof. “Come on. We’ve got an office full of people to save from Minseok’s wrath.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He only grins wider at Kyungsoo’s raised eyebrow. Boxy and brazen. Boyish. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kyungsoo concedes with an unamused look, shuffling over the seats and discarded hoodie as easily as he can. When he stands, Baekhyun doesn’t move out of the way. They stay chest to chest for a beat, the warmth of Baekhyun’s skin radiating through the dark floral blouse-thing and underneath Kyungsoo’s button-up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kyungsoo raises an eyebrow, as deadpan as he can. “The saving?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Baekhyun laughs, head thrown back. “To the saving.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When they get into the office, Baekhyun hits the ground running and Kyungsoo can only follow as Baekhyun weaves through the flurry to clap a hand on Minseok’s shoulder. His jovial attitude doesn’t fade but becomes sharper somehow: fashioned into a weapon.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Minseok spins, and Kyungsoo can’t imagine acting as casual with someone several years his senior even if he was the boss. Even with someone who looks as young as Minseok does.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How’s it going Min?” Baekhyun’s voice is direct. Calm, no bullshit, even with the grin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re lucky I adore you Byun Baekhyun because otherwise I’d be furious,” Minseok says, mouth lined. He inclined his head. “Kyungsoo.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s talk in my office,” Baekhyun says after Kyungsoo echoes Minseok’s greeting. He places a hand at Kyungsoo’s lower back long enough to turn them around.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When the door to his office shuts, Baekhyun leans immediately against his desk, fingers brushing his nose. His trousers rumple at the front from where the wood presses into the back of his thighs. “What’s going on?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Minseok hands over the tablet in his hands. “Main designer handed in his resignation. The current gossip is that he’s going to work for YG. There’s a delay in two of the articles for next month’s issue and one of the writers is claiming he couldn’t get the interview he needed. Everybody has needed my help so I haven’t even been able to get near my desk this morning to finalise the next lot of designs.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Baekhyun who’d been scrolling through the tablet closes his eyes briefly when Minseok finishes, pinching his nose with one hand, the other tapping his nails against the wood of his desk. After a minute, his eyes open and he sets his knuckles against his chin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kyungsoo watches his shoes against the plush carpet feeling out of place. He doesn’t say a word. The bond thrums against Kyungsoo’s shoulder as he shifts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Baekhyun spares him a glance. Adjusts the watch against his wrist, poking one side of his cheek out. “Okay,” he says, leaning forward, pointer finger moving to under his nose while his thumb props his chin up. “We don’t need a new lead designer until we start August’s issue next month. I’ll put an ad out but I’ve got one prospective anyway, I’ll send him an email soon. For the articles, can you send a memo out that if anyone wants to showcase an article, I’m offering a free space. That should start a fire under their asses. For the ‘failed interview’ I’ll put a word out and see if I can set one up. As for you Minseokkie, go do your own work.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Minseok steps forward to clap Baekhyun on the shoulder before walking to the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Forward all your emails to me Minseok and go down to the factory - I know you want to.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Minseok turns back, his hand on the door handle. He smiles and shakes his head. “And let you have all the fun?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When the door closes, Baekhyun doesn’t untense, shoulders up around his shoulders. He looks older like this, haggard.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can I help?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Baekhyun looks at him. Offers a smile. Lingers a second before cracking his neck and standing. “You can give me Kibum’s email.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Three hours in, there’s a knock at the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kyungsoo and Baekhyun both look up, Baekhyun with a well-chewed pen hanging from his mouth. While the front has escaped, the back of his hair has cowlicked something terrible from the frustrated hand that keeps tugging at it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s Minseok, holding a paper bag under his arm. “Chanyeol brought you both lunch.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank god,” Baekhyun exclaims, moving for the first time in a while, leaning back in his chair, arms crossing behind his head as he stretches. Both his elbows hyperextend, bending in alarmingly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Kyungsoo says, taking the bag when offered, seated closer to the door as he is. He places it in the space between his and Baekhyun’s work.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No problem,” Minseok grins, face again losing years. “I’m just the delivery boy though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Give Chanyeol my love,” Baekhyun shouts after him, legs kicking up onto his desk as he pulls the bag towards him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So,” Kyungsoo breaches the silence of their chewing with, “Chanyeol is your receptionist right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Baekhyun pauses with his chopsticks against the container. “How’d you figure?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I listen. Saw his nametag on the way out yesterday.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Baekhyun nods. “Impressive,” he says around a mouthful of noodles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not really,” Kyungsoo says. It wasn’t like it was easy to miss.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’d be surprised,” Baekhyun counters, brow creasing as he chases a piece of meat around the box.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well sometimes treasure can be found even amongst bullshit,” Kyungsoo says. Looks down with the force of the smile that threatens to break across his face, and laughs when Baekhyun looks up, affronted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then Kyungsoo flinches, something striking him in the forehead. It bounces off and lands in front of him. “Did you just </span>
  <em>
    <span>throw </span>
  </em>
  <span>a spring roll at me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His tone is enough to get Baekhyun to hold his hands up in surrender. The effect is diminished by the fact he’s struggling to breathe through his laughter. “Seriously, I’m sorry. Please don’t start a food fight, I clean my office myself and Chinese stains are out of my patience range.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kyungsoo levels him with a stare before picking up the offending projectile smearing grease onto one of his papers, popping it into his mouth.“Hm.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Baekhyun opens his mouth to say something but closes it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Finder’s law,” Kyungsoo says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re a lawyer now?” Baekhyun asks jokingly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The food on his tongue sours, “Was made to do a year of it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh-ho,” Baekhyun chuckles bitterly, spearing his food. “I know all about that one.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Baekhyun pushes the box away. “Parents wanted me to take, what was it, ‘non-girly’ subjects. Took graphic design anyway. Made things difficult for a while.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kyungsoo nods - he gets it - but doesn’t press it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And on that note, I think my stomach is quite full.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The next two hours pass much the same, Baekhyun typing furiously on his keyboard and Kyungsoo first doing his work, and then perusing the internet for vegetable seeds for his garden.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After that, five hours is spent trailing Baekhyun through the building. Up and through all six levels. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kyungsoo feels the pull of the bond more than he has in the past five days - with the exception of the first night - as Baekhyun tries to be everywhere at once. He sits in meetings to occasionally offer his opinion, talks to the editors, helps select fabrics and offers help to anyone asking for it. Even the ones that don’t.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kyungsoo, who once belonged to a theatre company and had several lead roles is somewhat familiar with being on his feet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not like this. Not without occasional break. Baekhyun is playing every single part in this show, including set, lighting and the director.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kyungsoo doesn’t - won’t - divulge his discomfort. This is a CEO trying to run his company, Kyungsoo couldn’t ask him to put it on hold just because his calves are a little tired. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As he watches, Baekhyun pulls the pen from behind his ear to jot something one of his advertising staff says - that’s who Kyungsoo assumes she is - before he pauses. He bends the fingers on his right hand to the first knuckle into a claw before extending them again. The thumb on his left hand comes to rub at the side of his palm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You okay sir?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just a bit of hand cramp that’s all,” he says to her, smiling, and waves his fingers at her as if to show his hand is fine. His skin is covered in random stripes of ink, a reddened callous on his middle pen from the pressure of the pen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kyungsoo waits until she’s walked away before offering to take the notes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Baekhyun regards him with a long look. “You sure?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kyungsoo pushes his glasses up. “You might have to tell me what you want written.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can do that,” he replies, handing over his clipboard and striding off to the next place. “Thanks.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kyungsoo nods, pressure pulling at his back foot, and follows. Seriousness ages Baekhyun’s face and shoulders.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s another hour of that, filling two pages with notes, watching Baekhyun flit around the room with a seemingly endless energy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Little points around Kyungsoo’s body start to ache: his left knee, right shoulder, a spot just beneath his ribs from the repeated stretch of the bond. He’s always a bit too slow keeping up with Baekhyun.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the time they return to Baekhyun’s office, night is crawling across the city. Kyungsoo remains standing when Baekhyun takes a seat, facing the window. One by one the streetlights flick on as black chases the colour from the sky. Even though he’s watching it’s almost as if he’s blinked, missing the point dim turns to dark.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whatcha brooding over there for Broody McBrooderson?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Turning his head to see Baekhyun still typing away, Kyungsoo shakes his head lightly, arms uncrossing. “Just watching the sunset.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s quite a view isn’t it? Gorgeous. Though if I’d been smart I would’ve flipped my office around. I mean I could move my desk - well not by myself because it’s too heavy - but that’ll be rude so nobody really wins do they,” Baekhyun chatters, eyes laser-focused on his screen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kyungsoo just listens as Baekhyun talks away, the man constantly moving, rubbing his eyes, spine curving slightly now that they’re out of sight. Again, Kyungsoo wonders if he ever takes the time to rest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Last night he’d even woken Kyungsoo at something like 2am to go to the bathroom. He doesn’t think he’d imagined the beside lamp glowing faintly after he’d closed his eyes either. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ll leave soon don’t worry,” Baekhyun says, taking his sigh as impatience.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You look exhausted that’s all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Damn you really know how to make a guy feel good,” He replies, voice breaking on yawn. “I’ll just send this email and then we can leave. Since you’re so close to falling asleep. Hey, maybe I should drive.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kyungsoo chuckles. Not a chance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It takes him until he hits the third red light on the drive home to notice that Baekhyun has his eyes closed. Chin tucked against his neck in a way that surely can’t be comfortable, head lolling towards Kyungsoo, face washed in red. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His hands have loosened so Kyungsoo gently takes the laptop sleeve and leans to place it on the floor. He turns the radio down, which is pretty much the extent of his knowledge on that particular technology. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the time Kyungsoo pulls into his driveway, Baekhyun is stirring. Hands rub at his eyes. “WhTtimeit?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Scooch over so we can get out,” Kyungsoo urges quietly, moving out of the way when he does so. “It’s about 8:20.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Baekhyun trails behind Kyungsoo, quiet as he lets them into the house.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kyungsoo flicks the lights on and leads them towards the kitchen, placing his briefcase on the corner of the island.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can I help?” Baekhyun says into the silence after several minutes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pardon?” Kyungsoo asks, bending to retrieve a bowl from a cupboard. The pull is at the top of his head this time - which is a new feeling. Rubs a hand against his hair trying to sooth the sting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is there anything I can help with?” Baekhyun repeats, sitting upright in the stool, leaning on his elbows to peer on the counter at Kyungsoo.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You could stand around here,” Kyungsoo suggests, standing up slowly to place the bowl on the counter. He dusts his hands against the fabric of his pants.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Having Baekhyun closer to him is easier, despite having to dodge around another person in his small kitchen as he retrieves everything he needs. Not worrying about the bond is a relief.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You awake enough to use a knife?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Absolutely,” Baekhyun chirps with a grin that doesn’t fill Kyungsoo with much confidence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still, he’s competent so Kyungsoo passes him his vegetable knife, handle-first and directs him to chop the vegetables.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kyungsoo retrieves another knife. Turns back and freezes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Haloed by the overhead light, Baekhyun’s head is hanging down, hair curling gently as he absolutely</span>
  <em>
    <span> brutalises </span>
  </em>
  <span>the onion he’s attempting to cut.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unable to let it go, Kyungsoo moves forward and stops him with a hand on his arm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Baekhyun looks up, placing the knife in the hand that Kyungsoo is holding out. He doesn’t fully shift away when Kyungsoo moves to take his place, shoulder bleeding warmth into Kyungsoo’s own when they press together.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like this,” Kyungsoo says lowly as he turns the onion in his hands. He chops it swiftly - but less so than he usually would - into even pieces.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With only a small frown, Baekhyun takes the knife back and easily dissects the other half of the onion he’d been destroying earlier. Almost a perfect mimic of how he’d just been shown, even down to how he holds the knife. The pieces come out identical. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s silent for a while, until, “Where’d you learn to cook?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kyungsoo looks away from the bubbling pot briefly to see Baekhyun watching him, leaning against the counter with his arms and legs crossed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He clears his throat. “My grandmother taught me before she died,” </span>
  <em>
    <span>because my mother thought it wasn’t a man’s place to learn </span>
  </em>
  <span>goes unsaid. “Then when I was 20 I did a cooking degree.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t tell Chanyeol,” Baekhyun says, later, when the food is cooked, his cheek bulging from his last mouthful. “But your cooking is better.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kyungsoo waves him off, looking down into his rice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve got it! You two should have a cook-off! I’ll judge.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You just want more food,” Kyungsoo points out, pushing the pot towards Baekhyun.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You caught me,” he laughs, digging in the serving spoon. He swings a little in the stool. “Though I don’t know how good of an idea it’d be. I love him but Chanyeol is super competitive and can be a sore loser.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After they wash up, they head towards the bathroom. Halfway there, Baekhyun realises the tea towel is still slung over his shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It hangs on the hook,” Kyungsoo points out after watching the other man circle the kitchen to find a place to put it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Baekhyun says, distracted, leaning over to switch the radio off, cutting the sweet tune playing into nothing. The resulting quiet is a hum, buzzing slightly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kyungsoo stumbles as Baekhyun shoulder-barges him through the doorway of the bathroom. His glare turns soft despite himself as Baekhyun’s returning grin is full of cheek and teasing edges.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Baekhyun’s grin turns into a groan when he looks into the mirror. His fingers dance over the dark bruises under his eyes as if he could wish them away, slim fingers prodding at the rest of his face. “My skincare routine is all out of wacckkk.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kyungsoo chuckles. Harder when Baekhyun looks at him with a face that could only be described as a pout.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s hard to describe. At a guess, it’s like a breath of fresh air. Like Baekhyun had inhaled properly for the first time since they’d meet. He seems generally relaxed. As if he’s not picking and choosing who he will be in the moment. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Book in hand, Kyungsoo sits on the edge of the bed - his actual bed, not the makeshift one - so Baekhyun can put some things in his duffle. Which, Kyungsoo only notices now, has a padlock attached to the zip of the main compartment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he’s done, Baekhyun flips back onto the bed and Kyungsoo stares down at him, confused. Baekhyun doesn’t speak, arm lying across his belly, eyes watching the ceiling. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Abruptly, he sits up and Kyungsoo shifts further onto the bed to stop from slipping off and agitating the bond.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hair wild but eyes and voice calm, Baekhyun faces him, one leg crossed under the other. “My parents tried to reconnect with me a few years ago. Before then they had never attempted.” His fist curls. “Seven years and only once they heard how much money I was making did they reach out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kyungsoo closes the book fully moving his finger that had been holding his place. Watches with heavy eyes under partially-smudged lenses. Now is not a time to speak.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Minseok and Chanyeol are the only people who have never double-crossed me or cared about how much I earn.” He almost looks wild with it now. “And I fucking hate Emporium.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Me too,” Kyungsoo says, voice gravelly from disuse.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Baekhyun kisses him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shocked, Kyungsoo’s eyes remain open at the feel of cool lips against his. But as slim fingers come up to cradle his face, Kyungsoo lets them close. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a ship crashing against rocks, dashing any prior thought against cliffs. Without thinking, Kyungsoo presses forward, but Baekhyun is already pulling away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He slips from Kyungsoo’s hands and rolls across the bed. An exclamation escapes his mouth as the magic pulls sharply. “I thought that would work,” Baekhyun says, eyes wide, fingers pressing to his chest over his heart.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kyungsoo blinks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Baekhyun isn’t looking at him anymore, eyelashes fanning downwards. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s obviously not the whole truth, but Kyungsoo has just missed something. He just doesn’t know what.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think it’s time for bed,” Baekhyun says, cheerfully. Falsely.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The lights blink off. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a long time, Kyungsoo sits in the darkness confused, and with a mouth that tingles. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What just happened?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>sorry I’m late!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>They don’t talk about it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not first thing in the morning when they’re both slow and open with sleep. Not during the drive to CBX with the window down to let the breeze in. Not three hours into the shift when the meetings are over and they’re alone in Baekhyun’s office.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Instead they, </span>
  <span>rather Baekhyun, talk of anything but. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kyungsoo learns a lot more about Baekhyun: his love of League of Legends, that he wanted to be a singer when he was younger; his favourite type of dog. (Corgi). Not unimportant but nothing as revolutionary as last night.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s still nice,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thinks, pieces of Baekhyun’s puzzle coming together. Makes him more human - less like the impenetrable fortress he was when they met. Kyungsoo just wishes he knew how much of this was meant as a distraction. A front.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Surprisingly, the day passes quickly and around 5, Kyungsoo’s phone buzzes. One, three, five times in quick succession. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Jongdae | 04:58</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>kyungsoo kyungsoo wherefore art thou kyungsoo </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>kyungsoo </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>love of my life</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>apple of my eye, future godfather of my children </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Kyungsoo snorts. Dramatic.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Kyungsoo | 04:59</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Yes?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Jongdae | 05:01</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>this is a reminder to come to work drinks tonight</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>pls</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t think I can handle Junmyeon’s dad jokes alone again</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Jongdae | 05:03</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>and don’t even try to use Baekhyun to get out of it</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Jongdae wants us at the work drinks tonight,” Kyungsoo sighs, surrendering the battle before it even starts. It won’t be that bad. He hopes. These things tend to go either way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Baekhyun grins. “Sure. Can’t say that I’m not curious about how chaotic everyone will be.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kyungsoo’s phone buzzes again. “Jongdae has offered to drive us if you want to drink.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’d be good,” Baekhyun replies, stretching obnoxiously, cracks rippling along his spine as he rotates his arms, shoulders and wrists in different directions. “I feel like we need one after today. This week even.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kyungsoo agrees. It’s been exhausting. Today alone, they’d sat in meeting upon meeting, chair arms overlapping just so the magic didn’t get irritated whenever Baekhyun stood to address the room. It’s pervasive. Restrictive. Even now Baekhyun isn’t hostile, like the first night, not having his own space is difficult. He’s an intensely private person by nature and not even being able to be alone a second, let for hours or even a day grates against him. Like splinters of discomfort that prick with every movement. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Give me another hour then we can go,” Baekhyun says, jerking his neck to the side sharply. There’s an alarming crack. “What time does it start?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“8.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Baekhyun makes a sing-song noise in the back of his throat. “Gotcha.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s not until 6:20 that Baekhyun's monitor goes dark and he throws two of his papers into the air. “Done!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You said an hour,” Kyungsoo says. Deadpan.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a tilted chin, Baekhyun bares his teeth in the most overdone braying laugh he’s ever heard. “You’re funny,” he says when he’s done, slipping back into his normal voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kyungsoo finds the corner of his mouth quirking. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Baekhyun stands. “Alright, now that you’ve stopped fucking around we can get outta here.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He laughs again, properly, dancing out of the way of the tube of papers Kyungsoo tries to swat him with. Winces a second later, when the bond pulls at their skin. Clutching his waist, Baekhyun bumps their shoulders together when Kyungsoo stands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The floor is almost empty except for several cubicles lit up in the corner. Kyungsoo can’t see them but a chorus of </span>
  <em>
    <span>“see you next week”</span>
  </em>
  <span>s’ ring out when Baekhyun calls out “goodnight!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kyungsoo can’t help but watch Baekhyun as they take the lift to the carpark, whistling jauntily as he leans against the elevator bar. He hates complicated, but there’s </span>
  <span>something</span>
  <span> about Baekhyun that’s so incredibly intriguing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where are the drinks tonight?” Baekhyun asks, pushing himself off when the doors open, falling into step with Kyungsoo as they head to the car.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A place fifteen minutes from mine. Don’t have to wear anything too fancy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Me?” Baekhyun gasps, mouth gaping, before he ducks into the car to get into the passenger seat. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Never.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kyungsoo rolls his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay I know you were joking around earlier but I literally have nothing to wear.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kyungsoo drops his book down from his face so he can fix Baekhyun with a look. “You’re kidding.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Baekhyun sits surrounded by what seems to be every single piece of clothing from his duffle. “In my defence, I haven’t been doing any washing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can borrow something of mine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The answering gleam in Baekhyun’s eye is more than a little worrying. Clinical and slightly manic.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Self-preservative, Kyungsoo turns back to his book only to feel a tugging at his wrist. Gentle, but persistent. Snapping his book shut, he looks up to a grinning Baekhyun. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Huffing a sigh, Kyungsoo stands. No point in trying to ignore him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Baekhyun gets straight into rifling through Kyungsoo’s wardrobe, humming to himself every so often. Fine-boned fingers knocking hangers together as he flicks through the garments. On his second or third perusal, he finally pulls out a sweater. “Perfect!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not what Kyungsoo would’ve thought to be a candidate, let alone first choice: high-necked and horizontally striped with three somewhat clashing patterns. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Baekhyun slips it over his head, almost hitting Kyungsoo in the face with a sleeve. Their shoulders are a similar width but Kyungsoo is bulkier so it gapes in the front and back. Baekhyun tucks into his dress slacks and it somehow becomes fashionable. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thoughts?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arms wide, with feet and ankles bare, hair a slightly messed oil-shine under the bedroom light, Baekhyun looks as if he’s genuinely interested in Kyungsoo’s answer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Surely, it would disappoint your readers to know you’re wearing secondhand clothes?” Kyungsoo says, after clearing his throat. It’s oddly dry. He pushes his glasses up, trying not to feel like an insect under a microscope.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, you haven’t even seen my shoe choice yet,” Baekhyun says, pointing to a ratty black pair of Converse sitting atop his duffle, one listing to the side as if it’s resigned to it’s fate. “Though that secondhand idea is a good one. I’ll write that down.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kyungsoo turns to swap his dress-shirt for a forest-green (he’s had a terrible fashion-designer influence living with him for almost a week) short-sleeve with a leather jacket over top. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He finds Baekhyun’s eyes on him when he turns. His cheeks heat. “What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“May I offer advice as a humble fashion designer that-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“- not that you need it - hey! I was just simply going to suggest you slick up your hair a little, that's all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Slick your hair Kyungsoo?” Jongdae comments first thing when he opens the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kyungsoo sours. “Yup.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Loquacious as always,” Jongdae says, pulling him into a hug. His red-knit dad sweater is soft under Kyungsoo’s hands. “Baekhyun.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Baekhyun grins. No harm no foul apparently. “Jongdae.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nice sweater,” Jongdae says, and Kyungsoo pointedly does not meet the gaze that swings to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Same goes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a beat, Jongdae claps Baekhyun on the shoulder. Surprisingly jovial. “Shall we go then?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As Kyungsoo sits in the backseat with Baekhyun listening to them trade banter back and forth, he realizes that this potential friendship is a dangerous one. They’re both too mischievous and clever for this to not end in disaster for someone else. Most likely Junmyeon. Or Yifan.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kyungsoo is content to listen, watching the streetlights pass through in the steadily blackening night, meeting Jongdae’s searching eyes in the rear view when they’re stopped.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do either of you have a Twitter?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A what?” Jongdae and Kyungsoo say at the same time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That was cute,” Baekhyun says typing on his phone, looking up briefly into Jongdae’s rear view mirror. “Snapchat?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They both shake their heads. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Baekhyun doesn’t offer anything else but a, “hopeless.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Brisk air hits the side of Kyungsoo’s face when they arrive and he opens the door. Fall isn’t known for warm nights.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Baekhyun stumbles slightly when he gets out of the car and Kyungsoo catches him by the arm without thinking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Baekhyun says, warm air in Kyungsoo’s space and it’s all he can do to smile back. Strained. He hadn’t realised they were so even in height.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You coming bond buddies?” Jongdae grins and the face Kyungsoo pulls matches Baekhyun’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>“gross.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Inside, bitter cold gives way to inviting warmth, the large fireplace roaring heartily at them as soon as they walk through the glass doors. Most patrons are huddled around the flatscreen above the flames, watching whatever game is playing tonight. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jongdae however leads them winding through the tables until they come to the back, their workmates sprawled across two booths and several tables.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jongdae! Kyungsoo!” Several voices shout.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jongdae grabs a periwinkle and semi-willing Yifan in by the neck as he returns the greetings while Kyungsoo settles for smiling around at them. The lighting, soft but dimmed, means he can only make out several faces.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello Baekhyun,” a quiet voice says. It’s Yixing. Close by, he's leaning against one of the standing tables, wearing a denim jacket and a dimpled smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kyungsoo catches Soo-young’s eye as Baekhyun drags him by the magic to stand beside Yixing. She grins at him, wide and red, as he stumbles two steps before he can correct himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nice one Casanova,” Jongdae says, appearing back at his shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Already done the rounds then,” Kyungsoo replies, not quite a question, knocking his elbow into Jongdae’s ribs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know it Soo,” comes with a slight wheeze. “Want a drink?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Baekhyun?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man half-turns away from Yixing. “Yes?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Drink?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gin.Thanks,” Baekhyun says. “I’ll shout next round.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The night winds on. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He lifts the neck of the bottle to his mouth, pushing his glasses back up with the side of his index finger. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kyungsoo has had more alcohol than he would usually, sipping away as he listens to the conversations flowing around him. Warmth had sunk deep into his face and bones so his jacket lies over the back of the stool he’s on. Contentment settles in his ribs as he watches everybody around him. A decent few have left - which is understandable considering it hit 10 half an hour ago.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Baekhyun has the table around him enraptured. His voice is not that loud but everybody is focused on the story he’s telling. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It had taken exactly two minutes for Kyungsoo’s workmates to basically adopt him into the fold. He’s funny, and the first story he’d told had a domino effect resulting in anecdotes being traded back and forth until they were all laughing. <br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He finishes his current imitation of his Hapkido instructor and the group bursts into another round of laughter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kyungsoo feels light and sluggish, like his brain is one elongated music note. His hands are heavy. He watches Baekhyun talk and something like sparks tingle along his bottom lip. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hums and Baekhyun, halfway through a new joke about his piano teacher, looks down at him. Grinning, dark hair feathered, falling over one eye. His dark eyes are swallowed by the light. Kyungsoo is close enough to see his nose scrunch. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t know you played piano Baekhyun,” Junmyeon nudges with a smile, his eyes tired.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry, yes. For about ten years” Baekhyun apologises, laughing, pulling his eyes from Kyungsoo and launching - only slightly wobbly - into the rest of his story. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kyungsoo is very aware that Baekhyun is pressed shoulder to waist against him from where he stands. He’s warm, shifting as he gestures animatedly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually the night slows down and people trickle away until only a few are left. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Soo-young, who had migrated into the seat across from Kyungsoo twenty minutes ago, pulls her fluffy coat over her shoulders and places a kiss on his cheek before she leaves with Joohyun and Junmyeon. Junmyeon opens the door for them and they’re gone into the night.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kyungsoo misses Taemin leave because Baekhyun’s eyes are laser-focused on him again and he’s saying </span>
  <em>
    <span>“you’ve got lipstick there,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>and placing a fingertip to Kyungsoo’s cheek.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His skin prickles. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t worry I got it,” Baekhyun says with alcohol-confidence. Pulls a tissue from somewhere, leaning over with hands that curl under Kyungsoo’s chin to hold. Misses the first time, laughs, then manages to scrub it off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kyungsoo’s eyes must be owl-wide. The last touch was so close to his mouth. “Thanks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You two coming?” Jongdae calls. Amused, clearly, in the tilt of his eyebrows and smile, hands held behind his back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“On it, Captain,” Baekhyun salutes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kyungsoo really can't tell if Baekhyun is drunk or not because he mainly doesn’t appear to be acting any differently. In the car, he places his head against the headrest and closes his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Multicoloured lights from the town glide over his face, pooling in under his eyelids, the gaps of his cheekbones and over his upper lip. He really is a beautiful man.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Kyungsoo?” Jongdae’s voice is almost whisper-soft. “You okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Knowing eyes meet his through the mirror. But the blood zipping around his body is laced with alcohol and it’s too much effort currently to worry. “Yeah I am.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jongdae’s kitten-mouth quirks even further. It makes his eyes crinkle at the sides. Makes him seem older. “Yes you are.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kyungsoo’s head feels kind of heavy. But the feeling is fading, not what it was even ten minutes ago. “Thank you Dae.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No problem. Never a problem.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kyungsoo punches Baekhyun probably a little harder than he means to when Jongdae pulls up the drive.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If that bruises you’ll be hearing from me. Loudly. When I inevitably complain</span>
  <em>
    <span> because, ow?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Baekhyun groans, eyes opening slowly. He shuffles out after Kyungsoo without prompting. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you,” he adds, poking his head back into the car.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All good,” Jongdae replies. “See you Monday.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then he’s gone and they’re alone in the night. The outside flicks on when they get close enough; Baekhyun’s cheeks are pink from the cold. The clouds are thick tonight, hiding the moon from sight. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When the door swings open it’s like they both suck in a breath. For a beat, neither of them move. Then Baekhyun says, “I’m freezing my balls off,” and the moment breaks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Light floods the room and Baekhyun looks up from the switch at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You hungry?” Kyungsoo asks in lieu of any of the other things that comes to his mind, pulling off his leather jacket.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Baekhyun blinks. “No. I had enough fries at the bar. Are you sober?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not quite,” Kyungsoo admits. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They don’t really speak while they prepare for sleep. Alcohol eases the routine that should still be awkward: going the bathroom, brushing their teeth and getting ready for bed, and soon they’re both sitting beside each other on top of Kyungsoo’s actual duvet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It blurs together like watercolour and Kyungsoo somehow has lost the last ten minutes as if it didn’t happen, Baekhyun’s shoulder brushing his while he sketches and chats away. It’s difficult to focus on his book, lines being reread over and over as they dance out of place whenever Baekhyun’s voice sneaks between them. He somehow is on Baekhyun’s side of his bed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After several minutes of quiet, Kyungsoo looks up to see what’s stopped the conversation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Baekhyun is staring at his page, rolling the tip of his pen along his bottom lip. There’s a sickly sweet pause, before his top lip closes coyly over the cap.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What changed?” Kyungsoo asks before he can stop himself, the beer having loosened his tongue. Chasing that last blade of liquid courage. That and Baekhyun’s mouth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t explain further but </span>
  <span>Baekhyun looks at him, hair askew. Shimmies back against the headboard to look at his ink-stained hands. "I didn't want you to realise that I'm actually super boring. That all I really do is work, trying to make my company even better."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You think I would've judged you for that?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Yes. No. I wanted to impress you." Baekhyun says the last part as a mumble and he would've missed it if he hadn't been sitting so close.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You could've fooled me," Kyungsoo says before he can stop himself, thinking of the rudeness in Baekhyun's voice when they first met. </span>
</p>
<p>He doesn't know when it became so easy. How they sank into a comfort, a push and pull that isn't unlike his and Jongdae's but at the same time is utterly different.</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Baekhyun says, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands and sliding them up into his hair. “It doesn’t excuse how awful I was, but I’ve had people try to tie themself to me before. I still shouldn’t have treated you that way. I’m sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kyungsoo gets it now. Some of it. The words from the first night, Baekhyun’s constant movement. </span>
  <span>Like he made a conscious effort to keep his back to the rest of the room even as he spoke to them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nods, and reopens his book. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s late, but neither of them make a move to sleep. Kyungsoo gets lost back into his book. Baekhyun sketches away, confident pen strokes branching across the paper as he shifts his book at different angles. They breathe almost in tandem, backs pressed to the headboard, their legs stretched in front of them. Baekhyun’s legs are slightly longer than his. Feet bare.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Enough time passes for the mellowness to seep out of his bloodstream. Inhibition filters back in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kyungsoo holds the current chapter open with his pointer finger while he takes a drink of water from the bottle on the bedside cabinet. He hadn’t realised how dry his throat was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The comfortable silence is broken by a sigh. Baekhyun. “Kyungsoo could you please retrieve my glasses for me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It must be the first time Baekhyun uses his name. Surely that’s why his skin warms. “Where are they?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The floor.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The floor?” Kyungsoo replies, unable to keep the judgment out of his tone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Baekhyun shrugs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not quite wanting to disturb his comfort he curls the bond around his hand to use it as a counter-balance. It thrums in his hand. He’s never quite touched it before, not consciously. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kyungsoo leans, trying his best to remain upright, and his fingers have almost brushed the gold frames when he starts sliding. The pull disappears. Slow to full speed, he hits the floor in a heap, jarring, hitting his shoulder as he twists out of the way of crushing the glasses.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he sits up, realising, Baekhyun is already looking at him, just as shocked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kyungsoo stands. Walks slowly to the bedroom door. For a second he thinks he feels a pull. Then it’s gone. His fingers brush his chest where the phantom ache lingers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turns. The red numbers of the alarm clock bleed until he adjusts his glasses enough to see. </span>
  <em>
    <span>12:34am. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Baekhyun laughs. It’s a false kind of thing. “Don’t worry I won’t make you drive this late. You can take me home tomorrow.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It goes quiet. Kyungsoo doesn’t say anything until he’s under his quilt on the floor. He doesn’t really know how to feel. The bond is gone. Freedom. The last thing tying them together has disappeared. His finger traces his bottom lip.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Goodnight,” he says finally. Voice low. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Goodnight,” Baekhyun says and his smile just before the light flickers off is quick and flitting. Like a hummingbird.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Despite the thoughts turning over in his brain, Kyungsoo is exhausted, and he falls asleep to the sound of Baekhyun’s uneven breathing.</span>
</p>
<p>And when he wakes up in the morning, Baekhyun is gone. </p>
<p>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>just letting y’all know, the last chapter might be a little delayed as I need to add in another scene and I go away for a week!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>ahhhhh i've got nothing to say to you all except -</p><p>I'm! So! Sorry!</p><p>I know what it's like to wait for a fic that doesn't update in forever, especially the final chapter (well you may have noticed that I have added another chapter). Really though, my sister who doubles as my beta said this chapter felt like I was rushing to try to get it over and done with. I'm not going to lie, it was, I have been trying to write this fic for three years and I really wanted it to be finished. But I wanted to give you guys quality, hence me posting now!</p><p>Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Part of Kyungsoo is unsurprised when he wakes to an empty room. </p><p>(The duvet is pulled up to the pillows but the slight rumples are enough to see that it was slept in).</p><p>The other part of Kyungsoo has a headache. </p><p>He retrieves some painkillers from his bathroom, marvelling at how free he feels. Kyungsoo packs his makeshift bed up after downing the pills, folding the quilt and sheets carefully. Only once they’re neatly placed back at the top of his wardrobe does he head to the kitchen to fill his growling stomach.</p><p><em> It’s strange, </em> he muses, moving around the kitchen. Pulls out a bowl and cereal and spoons easily, as if his body has adapted already, losing the built-up muscle memory of having another body to work around. </p><p>Kyungsoo is halfway through eating his breakfast at the bench when he notices his Post-it pad is written on. He pulls it closer. </p><p><em> ‘Thank you,’ </em> is all that is written on the small square. Not a name, not anything but those two words. Perfectly centred. One small fleck of ink that suggests he may have gone to write something else but decided not to.</p><p>Kyungsoo traces his finger over the words, before pulling it away from the pad. The delicate yellow paper crumples slightly. He stares at it a bit longer before eventually sticking it to his calendar and turning the page to the new day.</p><p>For a while Kyungsoo sits in his barstool, staring into space until the remains of his food have crusted to the bowl and the digital clock has clicked past 10:30.</p><p>With a sigh, Kyungsoo stands to wash his bowl and get ready for the rest of the day.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Everybody on Monday wants to know where Baekhyun has gone.</p><p>“Maybe you should just write it in permanent marker on your forehead,” Jongdae suggests, cheerfully, sipping at his takeaway cup. His face turns thoughtful. “What is interesting is that it didn’t last the full week. Most solstice magic does. See,” he points across the room to where Yifan is standing under the lights, almost normal except for a slight blue tinge. </p><p>Kyungsoo shrugs. Goes back to his work but not before flicking Jongdae on the forehead just to hear him whine. And to get him to move his ass off his desk. <em> Come on Dae, that’s my workspace your butt is on.  </em></p><p>Yixing appears as his shoulder sometime later with gentle eyes. “How are you Kyungsoo?” He asks in the usual sage way of his that contrasts with the way he dances (they’d all been stunned into silence after his dance recital. Even Jongdae). “I know the loss of a solstice bond can be quite draining.”</p><p>“I’m okay,” Kyungsoo says, unable to go without answering Yixing somehow. Plus, he’s honestly fine other than being more tired than he would’ve expected. At work, silence is easier to ignore.</p><p>Yixing places a box in his hand, capturing it on its way to rest on the keyboard and curling his fingers around the cardboard. “Take this anyway.”</p><p><em> Of course. </em>Kyungsoo nods his thanks, unable to hold back a smile. He tucks the box of honey and chamomile tea into his bag. The brand isn’t something he’s seen before but he’s sure it’ll be good. Yixing has a knack for these things.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The hours whittle away. </p><p>Soon his cubicle is the only one occupied, a lighthouse in an otherwise empty sea of desks. </p><p>The desk lamp fuzzes the surrounding darkness slightly and Kyungsoo should probably be on edge, alone with the oncoming shadows. With a silence broken only by ominous creaks and imagined thuds. But he isn’t. What he is though, is alone.</p><p>Another light switches on.</p><p>Finished, Kyungsoo logs off and crosses the floor to come across Kibum. </p><p>The older man seems to have noticed him walking over, which is a relief, he hadn’t known how he was going to break the silence without giving him a fright.</p><p>“Hi Kyungsoo,” he greets, ring-laden hands not stopping in their task of transferring things from his desk into a cardboard box.</p><p>“What brings you here so late?” Kyungsoo asks, curious. </p><p>Kohl-lined eyes regard him somewhat knowingly before flicking to the stapler he turns in his hands. “Didn’t feel as if I could handle packing my desk during the day. I love these guys so much and I wish I could work with them forever. But designing is my dream, and when the CEO himself asks you to work for him, well,” he laughs, placing a stapler into the box.</p><p>Kyungsoo hums.</p><p>Kibum lets the silence rest, packing his things neatly into a box that is slowly but surely becoming more full. Eventually, Kibum hands still and he leans against his cubicle wall.</p><p>“Amazing how much crap you can pick up in so little time isn’t it?” he comments idly but his eyes are sharp. “Now why are <em> you </em>still here?”</p><p>Kyungsoo opens his mouth but closes it. Nothing that comes to mind feels adequate. Or like the truth.</p><p>Kibum takes his black-brimmed Panama hat off his head and places it in the box. His hair, orange now, curls at the front while the back stays flat. “I had a friend once you know who was bonded by solstice magic. Had a friend of hers in her head for a week. Every single tangible thought shared between them. She hated it. But when it wore off she said the following week was the loneliest she’d felt in a long time.”</p><p>Kyungsoo remains silent. Doesn’t know if he wants to voice his agreement. Put pain into words. </p><p>Kibum smiles at him. Pulls Kyungsoo into a brief one-armed hug after setting the box on his hip. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”</p><p>They walk out of the building together in companionable silence.</p><p>A running car is waiting out front and Kibum opens the door with a “hey babe,” and places the box down. Turns back with a hand on the roof to call, “You don’t need a ride do you?”</p><p>Kyungsoo shakes his head. Bows. “No, but thank you."</p><p>He waves as Kibum sings out a farewell and watches until the car has disappeared around the corner. Then he huffs. Pulls his sweater tighter around him as he starts towards the bus stop. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>It would be simple to say that the days after the first pass easily. That would be a lie.</p><p>The silence from before the solstice comes back twice as bad because Kyungsoo had known what it was like filled. Instead, the days begin to drag.</p><p>Work becomes a relief because he is too busy to even let his thoughts wander - Kyungsoo signs up for more work and longer shifts - until he can tell that Junmyeon is beginning to worry.</p><p>He works now with loud metal music Tao recommended months ago blasting through headphones. Tries to tire himself out so he’s exhausted enough to fall asleep as soon as he falls into bed.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>By Thursday - Kyungsoo is resigned to the fact Baekhyun isn’t coming back. It comes after - of all the stupidest things - the self-help book sitting back on Jongdae’s desk.</p><p>Fury sinks into his throat because this is so <em> stupid. </em></p><p>The resignation lingers the entirety of Jo Jung-Suk’s latest play, Jongdae as a comforting warmth beside him. Afterwards, he goes to visit in his dressing room.</p><p>“Good to see you Kyungsoo,” the older man greets after opening the door. His grin is wide, deepening his laugh lines, and despite his sweaty breathlessness and half-removed stage makeup, Jung-Suk pulls him into a crushing hug. “How have you been? It’s been a while hasn’t it?”</p><p>Kyungsoo takes a seat in one of the makeup chairs. “Solstice complicated things but otherwise alright,” he admits, looking at the powders and palettes littering the counter. He drags an idle finger through the fallout left by the tapping of a brush.</p><p>Jung-Suk’s brows furrowed and he pauses wiping his face. Meets Kyungsoo’s eyes in the mirror. “I don’t have to kick anyone’s ass, do I? Because I will.”</p><p>Kyungsoo waved him off. “Nothing like that.” </p><p>
  <em> Lie. </em>
</p><p>Jong-Suk raises an eyebrow in a judgmental way Kyungsoo could never pull off quite as flawlessly. </p><p>“You should leave the fighting to me don’t you think?” Kyungsoo retaliates with a grin. Low-handed but distracting enough. </p><p>Jong-Suck leans over to clip him behind the head. “Brat.”</p><p>(They’d been running practice fight scenes one time and Jong-Suk’s fist had actually connected with Kyungsoo’s arm. Kyungsoo’s reflexive hit back had bruised Jong-Suk’s cheek a brilliant purple. For a week).</p><p>Kyungsoo laughs.</p><p>A flurry of perfumed girls flock towards the door, chattering loudly. They sing out their goodbyes in varying levels of clothing and makeup. One is trailing a purple boa, one is in full stage makeup and ratty sweatpants. </p><p>While the others pile out of the door, an older woman pulls away to approach them. Her hair is a short brown halo and there is a soft smile on her face to match the soft-looking coat. She kisses Jung-Suk’s forehead and leans towards Kyungsoo. </p><p>Extends her hand, “I’m Gummy, Jung-Suk’s partner slash girlfriend. Not that he’s told you.” She smiles down at Jung-Suk as she says this, eyes twinkling as she shakes his hand.</p><p>“I was getting there!” Jung-Suk protests arm winding around Gummy’s waist.</p><p>“Sure,” she says, tapping his cheek placatingly before turning to Kyungsoo. “He’s told me a lot about you and I’m glad I’m finally meeting you! I’d love to have you around for dinner.”</p><p>By the time Kyungsoo leaves, his cheeks hurt from smiling. The further he gets away from the dressing room, however, the more bitter sinks into his stomach.</p><p>He’s overjoyed of course, for someone who is essentially his older brother. But the voice in his head that sounds awfully like his father is saying that <em> maybe Baekhyun would’ve stayed if you were good enough. </em> The litany of <em> maybe if you were more outgoing, more exciting, just more, he would’ve stayed </em>only gets louder when Jongdae drops him off.</p><p>It keeps him awake until 2 am, fingers tracing the bumps of his knuckles, teacup long since emptied and abandoned. Even the string connected to the tea bag looks pathetic, drooping against the ceramic.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> Jongdae | 08:47 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> you sure you’re okay? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> bc you look like junmyeon when no one laughs at his jokes  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> it’s v sad </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Kyungsoo doesn’t reply. Doesn’t have to wait long either, until Jongdae appears at his side, holding a half-eaten muffin.</p><p>“I know 3 am stress baking when I see it,” he chides, leaning against the desk.</p><p>Kyungsoo slumps into his chair, pressing his fingertips to the pain underneath his eyes. He’s not getting out of this one.</p><p>“I didn’t push it last night but you look even more tired today. And it’s a Friday,” Jongdae half-whines, taking a large bite out of the muffin. His next words are around his chewing, “I’m worried.”</p><p>“You’re disgusting,” Kyungsoo counters, wiping the crumbs on his desk into his hand and throwing it into his wastebasket.</p><p>When he looks back, Jongdae looks unamused, eyebrows severe. Lips pursed and everything.</p><p>Kyungsoo huffs at him. When that doesn’t change the way Jongdae is looking at him, he sighs.</p><p>“It’s Baekhyun isn’t it?” Jongdae says, cutting straight to the point.</p><p>Of course, Kyungsoo glare does nothing to keep him from continuing. </p><p>“It’s okay to be fucked up over it Soo,” Jongdae says carefully. He sniffs. “I mean I obviously don’t see the appeal but each to their own I suppose.” </p><p>Kyungsoo shoves him half-heartedly. But his lips twitch. </p><p>“If it helps, I don’t think it’s anything to do with you.” Jongdae plucks at the black of his trousers, bracelet sliding down his wrist.</p><p>He leans upwards to see over the cubicle wall, the white of his dress shirt pulling in at the narrow of his waist. “Okay, Joonie’s on the warpath. I’ll see you later dear,” Jongdae says, squeezing Kyungsoo’s should’ve before disappearing into his own cubicle.</p><p>The hours after pass more easily.</p><p>Being busy keeps his mind occupied. Work is simple and straightforward and Kyungsoo thrives. It’s the moments when he’s alone that it’s not so easy. </p><p>But it’s a balmy night. </p><p>Kyungsoo gets off a stop earlier and is walking through the park. He doesn't dawdle but he also doesn’t make an effort to rush. It's too nice of a night for that. That and he really doesn’t want to be alone.</p><p>Leaves fall from the trees like multi-coloured rain, spinning in the air and dotting the ground beneath people's feet. Each gust of warm wind brings another wave. A flower floats down, almost hovering in front of his eyes. </p><p>Not to mention the distraction is nice, his phone firmly wedged in his jacket pocket where he left it, remnants of the CBX Wikipedia burning on a guilty conscience even after being deleted from his history. Kyungsoo could claim to only have been checking for a mention of Kibum, but he doesn't see the point in lying to himself. <br/><br/>He pulls the corner of his sweater over the edge of his mouth with a quiet "ugh."</p><p>His phone buzzes and he’s glad for the reprieve. </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em> Jongdae | 07:45 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I’ll be on my way soon. be ready in 10. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Kyungsoo is a little bemused. What did he agree to? He honestly doesn’t remember.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Kyungsoo | 07:46 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> For what?  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Jongdae | 07:47 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> friyay work drinks  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> just a small group of us and we can even leave early if you want! </em>
</p><p>
  <em> pls just come! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Guilt twists his stomach.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Kyungsoo | 07:49 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Okay. I’ll be home soon. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Jongdae | 07:51 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> :3 </em>
</p><p> </p><p>When Kyungsoo gets home, he leaves the door unlocked and sets his briefcase down. Places his food containers in the sink to wash up later. Then moves to his wardrobe to swap his work clothes for black boots, jeans and a long-sleeve.</p><p>“Honey I’m home!” Jongdae’s voice calls, ringing through the house. Loud.</p><p>“Didn’t know I ordered a headache,” Kyungsoo replies, turning to see his best friend push into his room.</p><p>“Ahh,” Jongdae muses, tapping his chin as he sprawls himself across Kyungsoo’s bed. “Therein lies the problem. Headaches aren’t ordered, we go where we please.”</p><p>Kyungsoo huffs out a laugh. </p><p>Jongdae turns his face to the ceiling, fingers drumming against his stomach. “We don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”</p><p>“I would like to,” Kyungsoo says firmly, pushing his glasses back up.</p><p>Jongdae pumps his legs in the air a few times before rocking into a sitting position. The curve of his eyes are smile-wide. He pushes himself off the bed to bound over to Kyungsoo and links their arms together. “Our chariot awaits!”</p><p>Despite overflowing energy, Jongdae does and can appreciate quiet. It’s comforting just having his presence beside him as they head to the bar. Neither of them plan to have more than one drink tonight so they head straight to where their friends are seated.</p><p>“Jongdae, Kyungsoo!” Yixing greets as they slide into their seats. </p><p>Yifan tips his bottle towards them, nodding along to the story Junmyeon is telling.</p><p>“How are you both?” Junmyeon asks when he’s finished <strike>bragging</strike> telling Yifan around Tao’s last Wushu tournament. Such a Dad. </p><p>“Fantastic,” Jongdae says, slouching back in his seat, letting his spine curve into the booth.</p><p>Kyungsoo rubs the back of his head. “Good.”</p><p>Junmyeon’s mouth quirks. Kindly. “Is it a bit odd that the bond has gone?”</p><p>Kyungsoo chuckles, eyes down at the grains of the table, light dim at that angle. “Yeah.”</p><p>Yifan stretches, and then it’s a mad dash for them all to correct the bottles before any can tip over. “Oops,” he laughs awkwardly. “I honestly couldn’t wait to be back to normal myself. Don’t think blue is really my colour.”</p><p>“Nonsense,” Jongdae interjects, as Kyungsoo’s hands play with the pepper shaker. “I think the artic blue really brought out your eyes.”</p><p>They all laugh.</p><p>“Honestly, Jongdae, how do you have so many synonyms for the colour blue?” Junmyeon asks, sipping at his glass of whiskey with his pinky out. He was raised with money and sometimes it shows.</p><p>Jongdae grins. As if he’s been waiting for this question all week. “Google.”</p><p>All four of them groan.</p><p>Kyungsoo excuses himself to order his and Jongdae’s drinks. (It gives him a break from their caring eyes). Smiles at the laughs that echo behind him. He’s glad he came. </p><p>Ordering doesn’t take long but Kyungsoo leans against the bar anyway, resting on his elbows. His shoulder aches a bit and he hopes it won’t get in the way tomorrow. </p><p>Thanking the bartender when the drinks slide to him, Kyungsoo takes a drink in either hand and takes them back to their table. </p><p>Sipping from the bottle as he lets the conversation move around him, Kyungsoo feels comfortable. He loves these people, something fierce, and he’s so glad he’s decided to come. Better to be in company than to be wishing for it. </p><p>He finds himself laughing louder than he has for the past week, right up until he chokes on his drink. </p><p>Kyungsoo waves their concern off, shoulders heaving, as he bangs on the table with his palm while Yixing rubs at his back.</p><p>They’re all grinning when he emerges, which only serves to embarrass him more.</p><p>Distraction comes in the form of Yifan checking his watch. “Sorry I should be off now. The babysitter finishes at 10.”</p><p>
  <em> Is it really 9:45 already? </em>
</p><p>“Yeah, I should be off as well,” Junmyeon says regretfully. “Don’t say anything but Tao doesn’t like being home alone after dark.”</p><p>Jongdae looks too delighted at this, so Kyungsoo swats his arm with raised eyebrows.</p><p><em> “Killjoy,” </em>Jongdae mutters but grins a second later. He wouldn’t actually say anything.</p><p>Then it’s just the three of them.</p><p>“How are you both?” Yixing asks, again, cheeks dimpling. He’d been at a conference since Tuesday. Managerial training.</p><p>“It’s honestly been a pretty uneventful week hasn’t it?” Jongdae answers, turning to Kyungsoo. </p><p>Kyungsoo nods. “How was your conference?”</p><p>They talk for another half an hour before deciding to leave. Yixing has been struggling for the past ten minutes to not yawn and Kyungsoo has never been one for late nights.</p><p>When Yixing heads out of the bar, Jongdae begs off for the bathroom.</p><p>Kyungsoo, who the heat was beginning to get to, steps outside. He’s about to take a seat when he locks eyes with Minseok. </p><p>Kyungsoo’s throat dries but he offers a smile a few seconds later. Small and unsure. </p><p>Minseok says something to the tattooed woman beside him as they draw closer. She smiles at Kyungsoo before heading inside alone.</p><p>“Hello,” Kyungsoo greets, rubbing his hands together.</p><p>Minseok looks at him shrewdly after offering his own greeting. </p><p>There’s a beat of awkward silence before he says, “Baekhyun isn't good at letting people get close. He keeps them at an arm's length. He couldn't do that with you.” Minseok studies him with big cat-eyes, intimidating. His lips downturn a fraction. “You scare him.”</p><p>
  <em> Oh. </em>
</p><p>Kyungsoo doesn’t know what to say. Most of this he’d pieced together but it’s another thing altogether to hear it from someone Baekhyun considers family.</p><p>Minseok seems to sense Kyungsoo’s lack of an answer. He steps forward, “he won’t tell you but there’s been trouble with the designer that quit. Just remember that when you see him,” He smiles then, gummy and kind. “Well I should get inside, but it was nice to see you Kyungsoo. Take care.”</p><p>When Jongdae joins him outside, Kyungsoo is idly tracing his finger along the wood of the table. Unbalanced is a good word right now. He feels kind of ill. </p><p>“You okay Soo?” Jongdae asks as they stop at a red light. He taps his wrist against the wheel, silver bracelet sliding up his arm.</p><p>Kyungsoo hums in the back of his throat. “Ran into one of Baekhyun’s friends while you were in the bathroom.”</p><p>To that, Jongdae is quiet for a long time. It’s only when he pulls into Kyungsoo’s driveway does he speak. Asks, “do you want me to stay the night Soo?” </p><p>Kyungsoo pats his cheek with the back of his hand. “I’ve got gardening to do tomorrow, I’ll be fine. Thank you.”</p><p>Jongdae does a good impression of someone who seems devastated. Sticks his head out of his window as he backs out onto the road - he's lucky Kyungsoo lives in a quiet suburb. “How could you keep this from me? All I really wanted was to pull some weeds! Gods, you’re selfish!”</p><p>Kyungsoo chuckles all the way into his house. Buoyed, he can’t keep the smile off his face as he gets prepared for bed. </p><p>It’s only when he’s under the covers that his thoughts wander. Back to Baekhyun. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Saturday morning brings Kyungsoo to the garden at 7 am in his rattiest clothes - a shirt trying vainly to still be black, holey from age, and paint-speckled track pants courtesy of a mischievous Jongdae. </p><p>Setting his armful on the grass so he can pull on his gloves, Kyungsoo critically appraises his garden so he can make a plan in his head. Peas, green beans, zucchini squash. There and there. </p><p>With a nod and leaning on his kneeling pad, Kyungsoo gets stuck into it.</p><p>When he’s finished the weeding he has to sit back, wiping his forearm across his sweaty forehead. It’s a rare sunny autumn day and the slight breeze isn’t quite enough to cool his skin. His muscles ache, his body hot from exertion.</p><p>The garden has remained untouched for two weeks, one for rest, the second for Baekhyun and weeds are persistent buggers. Roots tend to anchor deep so they’re not easy to remove either.</p><p>He’s rolling out his shoulders to start digging again when a lilting voice calls out to him.</p><p>Kyungsoo shuffles around in his knees, pushing the straw hat back from his face. “Pardon?”</p><p>Hyuna, one of his neighbours, smiles, unworried about her red floral dress getting dirty as she leans against his fence. “Where’s your shadow? The man trailing after you the past week?”</p><p><em> Ah. </em>Baekhyun. </p><p>Kyungsoo clears his throat, wiping his gloves and trowel on the grass. Hyuna has always made him nervous - because she was willful and smart and didn’t give a shit about what people thought about her and her husband. “Solstice magic.”</p><p>“Ah,” she says, smiling knowingly. “Well I’d stay to chat but I’d best go before Dawn starts to wonder where I am - I have to pick him up from an overnight shift.” She rolls her eyes upwards briefly and pushes herself off the fence. “We’ll have to do dinner sometime next week! And your roses look wonderful Kyungsoo!” Hyuna shouts the last sentence to be heard over her garage door opening.</p><p>Kyungsoo grins. Under the watchful eye of the cloudless sky, turns back to his garden to start overturning the soil and planting the first row of seeds.</p><p>Then he shucks off his gloves and shoes to go inside to get a glass of water. Checks the clock while he’s at it. It’s only just hit 10:30. </p><p>Sitting back onto the grass, now tickling his bare arms and feet, Kyungsoo takes off his glasses and sets them down. The damn things kept sliding off. </p><p>The world blurry, he dries the bridge of his nose with his hand. Lies down to take a small rest, placing his hat over his face to block out the sunlight. </p><p>He must doze off because there’s a shift when he opens his eyes to light creeping through gaps in the straw. His muscles feel lax, but also as if they’ve been in the same position for a while. He’s warm. </p><p>“What time is it?” Kyungsoo mutters out loud, to himself, still unused to not having his questions go unanswered. </p><p>“11:05,” a voice answers. Amused. Familiar.</p><p>Kyungsoo startles, his body jolting, and he pushes his hat from his face. </p><p>He squints blurred eyes against the sun, hands digging beside him in the grass. Once his lenses are over his eyes and his arm is thrown up to block the sun, he can see Baekhyun standing there, smiling.</p><p>Kyungsoo pushes up onto his elbows to see better and take the strain from his neck. “Baekhyun?” He croaks, voice rusty. He doesn’t quite believe it.</p><p>Black hair gleams where the light touches the edges and a massive grin is almost impossible to see from the glare of the sun. Buts it’s undoubtedly him, bony elbows and wrists poking out from a shirt of pale yellow.</p><p>“Is it crazy that I missed you?” Baekhyun says, almost blurts, under Kyungsoo’s eye. </p><p>Kyungsoo sits up properly. Something in his stomach turns. “Did you?” He replies. Blunt. </p><p>Baekhyun double-takes, body swaying backwards like the answer he got cake unexpectedly. “What?”</p><p>“Why did you leave then? Why didn’t you text if you missed me so? Call? Even left a message?”</p><p>Baekhyun opens his mouth. Closes it. The silence stretches like taffy and his hand comes to tug on the bottom of his shirt. He won’t meet Kyungsoo’s eyes when he finally says, “Nothing that doesn’t sound like an excuse.”</p><p>The pulled weeds smell cloying and bitter under his nose. The low thrum of anger that was bubbling beneath the surface finally shatters its cage. </p><p>“So what?” Kyungsoo says, voice walking a live wire. Harsh like it’s been sharpened on a cinder block. “You come back after a week, when I’ve just gotten used to not having around. I lay awake the first two nights for <em> hours </em>because I wasn’t used to the quiet. I kept waiting for smart-ass comments that never came. Because. You. Left. And I didn’t think you were going to come back.”</p><p>When Kyungsoo finishes, his chest heaves from the effort. From having more words than usual. He feels a bead of sweat roll down his temple which only makes him angrier. “If you’d told me you were having trouble at work which <em> Minseok </em>did, then I would’ve at least understood. All it required was one text.”</p><p>Baekhyun gapes at him.</p><p>“So,” Kyungsoo continues, forcing Baekhyun to keep his eye contact. “where does that leave us? You can’t run from things because they scare you. It doesn’t work like that, you can’t expect me to not be affected by your actions.” </p><p>Baekhyun visibly wilts. His spine curves into itself and his fingers tap a staccato pattern on his thigh nervously. Before, “I know. I’m so sorry. And I can’t promise I won’t disappoint you again but I’m all in. 100% in.”</p><p>“Well,” Kyungsoo says, closing his eyes against the sun. The anger disappears, just leaving bone-deep tiredness. He sighs so deep it goes through his whole body and shifts so his gloved hands take his weight. “I don’t know. What now?”</p><p>Baekhyun huffs. Closes the distance between them to throw himself on the grass and puts an arm behind his head. Stares up, not at Kyungsoo. But their legs knock together.</p><p>“I don’t know. But I panicked. I liked you so much and it scared me. I couldn’t get away from you and then so much shit happened at work afterwards. Which sounds like a shitty excuse,” Baekhyun says, tilting his chin up to look at Kyungsoo. His hair flops with force onto the grass, black strands messy against the short green.</p><p>Kyungsoo plucks a weed out at his feet he’d somehow missed. “Why today?”</p><p>“Why today what?” Baekhyun asks eyes squinted against the light.</p><p>“Why’d you come to me today? It’s almost been a week. And it’s not like you attempted contact before now.” </p><p>Long-fingers strip the weeds of their stems, splitting and tearing them until they are nothing. “Minseok and Chanyeol were on my case the whole week and Minseok said he’d seen you last night,” he pauses, tapping his finger along Kyungsoo’s thigh. “And it’s been the first day I couldn’t fill with work. When I wasn’t at work all I thought about was you.”</p><p>Kyungsoo shifts, ears heating. Sits to look at his gloved hand instead.</p><p>But Baekhyun isn’t finished, the words after seemingly tumbling out of him, “because you have to know your mouth is devastating. That it splits into a heart whenever you smile? Or that you have a scar on your forehead that you can only see when you slick your hair back? That ever since I went home I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”</p><p>“Third of May, seven years ago,” Kyungsoo offers, under a veneer of calm belied by reddening ears. Holds his hand out, for Baekhyun to <em> wait </em>when the other man’s frantic eyes turn back to him. “The scar. I pushed Jongdae out of the way of an oncoming car. I wasn’t so lucky.”</p><p>Baekhyun’s chuckle is a sweet, relieved thing. </p><p>“Being stuck to you was one of the best things to ever happen to me,” Baekhyun admits quietly, looking down at his hands, delicate and smooth. “You made me feel like I could trust people again. Sounds cheesy but it’s true,” he finishes eyes on Kyungsoo the whole time. </p><p><em> Real, </em>Kyungsoo thinks.</p><p>Baekhyun must notice his embarrassment because he lays back down. Again, Kyungsoo is close enough to see Baekhyun’s nose scrunch - it marks him younger. To see the sharp line of his jaw when he turns his face to the sun. How endearingly odd-shapes his ears are. The scent that lingers that he didn’t know belonged to Baekhyun until it returned, sharp and sweet. </p><p>An eye reopens. “You watching me Kyungsoo?”</p><p>“Trying to figure out what to do,” Kyungsoo grumbles, admits, embarrassed, fondness trickling into his words and painting them not at all what he meant.</p><p>Baekhyun looks at him for a long minute, brown eyes squinting against the sunlight.</p><p>Instinctively, Kyungsoo pulls the hat from his head with a gloved hand and places it on top of Baekhyun’s hair. Pulls it down over Baekhyun’s eyes when the apple of his cheeks inevitably lift into a smile. </p><p>Baekhyun’s smile turns into an unrestrained laugh, high and valleying as he unthreads one hand from the grass to push the brim away from his face. His eyes sparkle. A fine-boned hand dropping back down to rest against Kyungsoo’s gloved one.</p><p>Awkward, Kyungsoo pushes the cackling man away. Waits until his laughter dies, quick after he catches sight of Kyungsoo’s face. </p><p>“Kyungsoo?” He asks, softly. Concern written in the furrow of his brow and inverted ‘v’ of his mouth.</p><p>“I think I need more time,” he admits. There is relief and happiness but Baekhyun’s presence also brings a fear and a new sort of insecurity. </p><p>“That’s fair. How about I give you my number?” </p><p>"Okay," Kyungsoo agrees, turning his face back towards the sun.<br/><br/><br/><br/><br/></p><p> </p><p>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>also can you believe that I forgot what a bartender was called and had to google it</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>ahhhhh it's finally finished!!</p>
<p>i'm not going to lie, I don't know if I'll ever really be happy with this last chapter but its time to move on I think. It's short and sweet (like me).</p>
<p>In saying that, I have really enjoyed posting this for you all, and reading all of your comments! I was even brave enough to reply to some, even though I find it hard to express my genuine gratefulness to you all!</p>
<p>enjoy :3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Three weeks later.</em>
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<p>“It’s almost winter,” Baekhyun whines, “why are you planting stuff now?”</p>
<p>“You can go inside if you want,” Kyungsoo replies mildly, not bothering to look up. Hides a smile when Baekhyun huffs and takes a spot next to him.</p>
<p>
  <em> Besides, winter didn’t start until December. It wasn’t even August yet.  </em>
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<p>It has been tentative, this new thing, but good. The following days after Baekhyun appeared in his garden was followed by lots of texting. And Kyungsoo finally met Chanyeol. They went on a proper date. He destroyed both Baekhyun and Jongdae at Mario Kart (the singular game he knows how to play).</p>
<p>“You have dirt on your forehead,” Baekhyun mutters when they’re taking a break. “I’ll get it,” he says hastily before Kyungsoo can try to wipe it off, almost lunging forward. The t-shirt he is wearing has a hole where the collar is pulling away from the fabric and Kyungsoo can’t quite keep his eyes off it.</p>
<p>Kyungsoo doesn’t think that many got to see the CEO of CBX like this, rumpled, and messy and ratty. He says nothing when a hand comes up to hold his face, a tingling spreading outwards from where Baekhyun’s fingertips touch his skin. </p>
<p>With his other hand, Baekhyun swipes his thumb across Kyungsoo’s forehead like a caress. </p>
<p>When he does it another two times with more pressure, Kyungsoo feels his mouth split into a grin. “You can’t get it off can you?”</p>
<p>“I <em> can,” </em>Baekhyun semi-growls, elbow coming up to rest against Kyungsoo’s face as he applies more force. Rises onto his knees over Kyungsoo, eyebrows creasing, mouth falling into an inverted ‘v.’ “It’s just stubborn. There!” He cries out, at last, letting Kyungsoo go.</p>
<p><em> What are you doing, </em>Kyungsoo thinks, confused, looking up at him, as Baekhyun doesn’t move from where he is, legs swung over Kyungsoo’s. </p>
<p>“While I’m here though,” Baekhyun mutters, still on his haunches, body blocking the sun from getting in Kyungsoo’s eyes. He leans forward to cradle Kyungsoo’s face in his hands, properly this time. </p>
<p>Waits, until Kyungsoo nods. </p>
<p>Everything about Baekhyun is warm, his hands, his touch. </p>
<p>His mouth.</p>
<p>Kyungsoo’s eyes flutter open when the pressure moves back and Baekhyun <em> coos </em>at him. With a grumble, Kyungsoo pulls him back into the kiss with a fist gripping faded-black fabric. </p>
<p>Like the rest of him, Baekhyun’s mouth is <em> clever, </em>first pressing soft-mouthed kisses to Kyungsoo’s lips before turning sharp-toothed and sharp-tongued. </p>
<p>Sunlight beats down, heating the hand he has between Baekhyun’s shifting shoulder blades and warming the grass beneath his back when Baekhyun presses them down. </p>
<p>Kyungsoo goes willingly, giving back as good as he gets, moving his mouth against Baekhyun’s with a hand locked into the hair at the back of his head. He uses his handful to <em> tug </em> when Baekhyun’s kisses turn further south. </p>
<p>Baekhyun makes a mumble of protest against the skin of Kyungsoo’s neck, nuzzling under his jawline.</p>
<p>Reluctantly, Kyungsoo pulls him back. “I really don’t want to scandalise my neighbours, thank you.”</p>
<p>Baekhyun pouts, cheeks pink, straw hat tumbled onto the ground beside them. “Where’s the fun in that?” He grumbles, but his cheek curves.</p>
<p>With the smell of roses and Baekhyun smiling into his chest, gleaming eyes looking into his own, Kyungsoo is content.</p>
<p>He has never done anything complicated in his life. Has never wanted to. And he knows this doesn’t mean it’ll be smooth sailing from here. </p>
<p>But with Baekhyun, maybe he would like to try.</p>
<p> </p>
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